Elfling in the Crossfire Trilogy - Ghosts
by J. Salus
Summary: A young Legolas saw his naneth and oldest brother killed when a dragon came to Greenwood the Great in search for diamonds and to see if the Elvenking's youngest was as beautiful as they said. Two years later, a reluctant King Thranduil opens the kingdom to trade with Dale again, though many fear that when people see Legolas, the rumors will begin anew and the dragon will return.
1. Chapter 1

Legolas was screaming again. Thranduil couldn't stand listening to the ripping, sobbing shrieks that came from his elfling, who was barely six years old. He couldn't stand it when any of his warriors did the same in the Healing Ward since that night almost two years ago, but it ignited more anger in him coming from one of his children, from his youngest, from one who wasn't old enough to understand anything other than how wrong life in these cold halls had become.

Thranduil was out of bed and tying his robe around his waist before Legolas could take a breath to cry out again. Moonlight wept through the sweeping windows on his right, lighting the cool carpets as he exited his room through a single red-painted door that opened to his baby's quarters. Jumping the three steps down, he saw that Legolas was still trapped in his nightmare, thrashing in his green silk sheets.

"Sire?" One of the guards stood at the other door leading into the room, having been drawn in with the same speed as Thranduil by Legolas's screams.

The elf's wide green eyes were shadowed with worry, even though this was a nightly routine. Everyone in Mirkwood loved his youngest son, and wanted his suffering to end. Thranduil hated the rumors that had begun to spread that Legolas was fading. His elfling was fine. He refused to believe his elfling would leave him, just like his wife and oldest son, the Crown Prince.

"Get out!" Thranduil grabbed a picture book from Legolas's nightstand and hurled it at the guard. The door shut before it could hit him, smacking against the thick oak instead and crashing to the stone below.

The noise woke his elfling, who lay panting and sweating before him, trapped in a knot that he had made with his sheets. Legolas stared up at him with wide, fearful silver eyes. He was a beautiful elf, delicate and with a spirit so bright that it made his golden-white hair and porcelain skin glow. It was a soft light, one that many in the court compared to their beloved stars. Thranduil hated that they talked about Legolas with such admiration, as if they wanted to take him for themselves. Thranduil hated that his small elfling was as perfect as he was. It brought him too much attention, and Thranduil had no intension of sharing him. Not after almost losing him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at his elfling, who tracked his movements without blinking but didn't inch away from him. Thranduil decided this meant he was getting better. He reached out, slowly, cautiously, and ran a hand over his glistening forehead. In response, Legolas relaxed.

"Kagnirrok," Legolas breathed and shivered. "He isn't here is he?"

The beast's name made Thranduil's bones turn to ice. The dragon had taken his kingdom, Greenwood the Great, and spread darkness across it from the south. The snake bore down from the sky like a serpent sent by the Valar, as if to punish him and his people for living in peace for too long, as if they were meant to suffer like mere humans instead of enjoying the immortality of the Eldar. The beast had come in search for the kingdom's gems filled with starlight, and to see if the youngest son of the Elvenking was as magnificent to behold as he had heard. In one day the beast had shattered three millennia of peace, shorn the light in their forest to shreds and now spiders and other foul things had begun to move in. Other realms had already begun to call Greenwood the Great . . . Mirkwood. While Kagnirrok had been chased away, more than just his elfling feared his return and an even greater darkness. Thranduil and the rest of Mirkwood feared that the elfling prince would be taken from them and all would fall to shadow.

Thranduil kept telling them that the beast would never show itself to their kingdom again, even if such an event haunted his dreams. The monster had taken all of the diamonds in Mirkwood's halls. The only thing it hadn't taken was Legolas. Thranduil refused to believe that it would come back for him.

"Nay, tithen las," Thranduil whispered to Legolas. "The snake is long gone from our home. The fire drake will not return, for your ada scared it away forever."

Legolas didn't look as relieved by those words as Thranduil expected. Usually his elfling would ease back into his pillows when he heard them and Thranduil would sing him to sleep. He waited for his son to explain his new worries as he wiped tears from his soft, flushed cheeks.

"Are you mad at me?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil held still. He moved his attention from the tear tracks to meet those wide, fearful eyes again. He tilted his head and traced the edge of one white eyebrow on his son's face.

"I would never be angry with you," he answered as gently as he could, and wondered with mounting fury where Legolas ever got the idea. Whoever planted it in his head would be punished.

"It's my fault Nana and Oroduil are . . . gone." Tears built in Legolas's eyes again.

"Your Nana and brother died protecting you." Thranduil thumbed the tears away as they fell. "I would never dishonor their sacrifice by being angry with you. It was not your fault that the beast came down that hallway. No one knew he would be there after raiding the kingdom's treasures."

"Why did he come back after taking the diamonds?" Legolas shivered.

Thranduil pressed a kiss on Legolas's forehead.

"He didn't take all of our treasures," he said softly. "He won't ever take all of it. Now sleep, ion nin."

Legolas was tired from a night full of memories, of reliving the moment Kagnirrok swept around the corner and into the hallway as he and his mother and oldest brother, Oroduil, were just leaving the royal wing. Legolas scampered down the steps to the warrior barracks, letting the cool stone under his bare feet push away the heat of the flames and his mother's shrieks from his mind. The familiar, comforting smell of leather and polished steel instantly calmed his racing heart and he felt safe.

"Dearest Prince," one soldier called out as he raced down the empty hallway, strong arms sweeping down to catch him as he passed. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I'm looking for a sword." Legolas gave Pelorian his best smile and wrapped his arms around the archer's neck.

"You're in no need for such a crude weapon," Pelorian snorted. Green eyes and a wicked smile sparked with mischief. "If it's a weapon you want, you should take up the bow."

"Nay, you daft elf," came Rugon's gravely bark. "Keep your poison out of his ears. If he wants a blade, let him have one. It's better than your useless sprigs any day."

Legolas laughed as Rugon, a large elf with arms and legs the size of oak branches, scooped him out of Pelorian's grasp and swung him up to sit on his boulder-like shoulders. Rugon was a woodland knight, always armed with a heavy long sword, and always argued with the archer's about who was the better warrior. The elite of the archers were snipers, led by Pelorian, and fought spiders and wargs much differently than the head-on, feral screaming method that Rugon and his elves did.

"I'll make him an archer yet, you troll, and there is nothing you can do to stop me," Pelorian said as he followed him and Legolas down the hall. Legolas smiled back at him and silently agreed. He would much rather be stealthy and secretive like Pelorian than a mountain like Rugon. That way, if he could move like a shadow through the trees, no dragon could find him before he snuck up on the snake and cut off its slimy head.

"Just as there will be nothing you can do to stop me from making him a knight," Rugon growled, but the menacing glare from his broad face and gray eyes was ruined by his rumbling laugh.

"Neither of you better hand him a weapon." Another warrior, Sard, joined them as he stepped out of a room. Following him were at least half of Mirkwood's army, flooding the vast hall from hundreds of doors. Legolas eyed Sard's strange throwing knives as the elf tucked them up his left sleeve. Though he didn't understand what Sard did in the military, his father often referred to him as a black magician, but he never used magic like Gandalf. His father never has explained it.

"Legolas is our prince," Sard said with his usual gentle voice, dark blue eyes finding his. A grin lifted his pale lips as he tucked a blade into the long, black braid behind his head. "Legolas should never have to lift a weapon so long as we are around. Nothing will ever harm him, and he should never feel the need to take up arms. You feel safe with us, do you not my prince?"

"I do," Legolas said, but as conversation filled the stone halls he was reminded of Kagnirrok's rolling growl and shivered. "I want to be able to fight anyway, though. Could you teach me?"

Rugon must have felt his tremor because he pulled Legolas off his shoulders and into his arms, cradling him as if he was an infant. Legolas growled in protest, hating to be coddled whenever anyone remembered what had happened to him two years ago. He wasn't four years old anymore. His father was known for his fierceness, and so would he be. After a few futile kicks and punches, he gave up. The elf, with his long golden hair and serious smoky eyes, was not someone Legolas could escape. He looked from Rugon's searching, furious gaze to Pelorian's worried one. Thankfully Sard was still busy hiding knives all over in his dark uniform.

"Do not tell me that the beast still haunts you." Rugon's gruff voice was quiet as if the mere thought pained him. "That slithering snake fled these lands two years ago from before your father's wrath and has not the courage to return. How can we drive his ghost from your mind, tithen prince? How can we help you?"

"Is he well?" a scared elleth, one of Pelorian's archers, stepped forward and made Rugon and the two others stop walking. "His condition hasn't worsened, has it?"

"He is not fading, witch," Pelorian snapped and shoved her to the side.

Legolas refused to look at her, only holding Rugon's gaze as they began walking again.

"If he comes back," Legolas whispered in response to Rugon's plea, "I will not hide behind anyone. I will fight."

The roar of conversation, the clatter of weapons and the sound of the military barracks coming to life for the day grew muffled and the aroma of freshly baked bread and chilled milk calmed him. The barrack kitchens were busy with the slamming of pots and pans, sizzling eggs and barking orders, but it was a relief compared to the overcrowded halls.

Rugon took a seat but did not allow Legolas to sit up or sit on his own. Rugon did not seem willing to release his charge, or even look away from him.

"I wish. . . ." Rugon began, searching for words. "I wish I could comfort you like you so desperately need by telling you the demon spawn will not return, that I and these other elves will always be here to protect you, but if my prince feels the need to learn how to defend himself, who am I to argue? Just know that my heart will break, because I always want you to stay this small so I can hold you like this and carry you away whenever the next nightmare comes for you."

Legolas smiled his thank you, and reached out to touch Rugon's crooked nose that had been broken one too many times throughout his immortal life that he no longer cared enough to set it straight again.

"It is best this way," Legolas said. "I would rather fight with you than lose you and have done nothing. I can't lose anyone else that I love."

Rugon's eyes glistened with tears and Legolas frowned at them.

"Old words from a young elf," Sard muttered. "Curse that dragon for aging you."

"Breakfast, dearest prince," Pelorian announced and Legolas heard a plate set on the wooden table next to him, where he still lay in Rugon's arms. "Release the sprite, troll," Pelorian demanded.

Rugon grumbled something and sat Legolas on his knee. Legolas smiled when he saw that Pelorian had brought him buttered biscuits, scrambled eggs and a large mug of iced milk. He immediately grabbed the drink and took a long swig from it. When he put it down again, all three of the warriors laughed. Sard took his sleeve and wiped Legolas's upper lip and the tip of his nose with it. Legolas laughed with them.

"There you are!"

Legolas jumped at the high and whining voice that belonged to his keeper, a nervous elf named Blaon. The waif-thin tutor, donned in elegant green robes that seemed to drown his body and made him stand out like a pompous fly amid a sea of black-clad soldiers, tucked his loose brown hair behind both ears and glared at him.

"The whole palace is looking for you, brat." Blaon reached to snatch him away from Rugon, but Sard caught his arm first and held it still. Blaon's icy blue eyes grew wide and his lips pursed like he had something sour in his mouth. "Unhand me, sorcerer. I am the prince's keeper and it is my responsibility to ensure that he is exactly where he belongs and that means he should not be here or ever be here consorting with the likes of you and your fellow killers."

Rugon growled like a furious bear and Pelorian leapt to his feet. Sard, however, remained calm. His dark eyes bore into Blaon's and forced him into silence.

"Say what you will about us," Sard said, soft and gentle as ever, though now with a dangerous edge to his voice as if his very words could slice Blaon's throat. Legolas's keeper struggled to get free and failed. "However, never speak ill of our prince. He is precious to us, and he could one day be your king so you had best be wise and hold your tongue in your frustration. Or else next time I will cut it out."

Blaon sucked on that sour thing in his mouth for a moment more before nodding. Sard allowed him to wrench his wrist free and turn once again to Legolas.

"Come now, Prince," Blaon ordered.

"Let him eat breakfast," Pelorian argued, still standing as well as hovering over Legolas protectively. "Look at him, he still hardly eats anything. Do you want him to be as thin as he was a year ago, or a year and a half ago?"

"Of course not-"

"Then let him eat!"

"His father is tearing the palace to pieces," Blaon shouted, gaining the attention from the entire kitchen now. Legolas spotted the head chef, Fesove, as he marched forward and folded his meaty arms. He had his famous wooden spoon in hand, the one he used on warriors who tried sneaking food. Fesove was almost as intimidating as Rugon, and in response to his angry red face Legolas tucked himself closer to Rugon's broad chest. Rugon wrapped his arms around him in response, tightening his grip on him as if feeling his unease.

"If I do not get the king's son to him quickly then we all face his wrath," Blaon finished.

"Is Thranduil getting worse?" Pelorian asked, all anger vanishing to fear. "Is there any danger to-"

"He is getting worse and so it is best that we don't find out how far his anger will spread, and to who else it may harm." Kasslad. Legolas's brother, the new Crown Prince. All eyes turned to him. He was the spitting image of Oroduil, who was killed with the queen that day. The same fiery golden eyes, white hair that tumbled over broad shoulders, their bodies the same build even. Both had trained with the sword, so it should be expected, but it hurt looking at him nonetheless. It was like looking at Oroduil's ghost.

"Time to go, tithen las." Kasslad waved for Blaon to take Legolas.

"Will you teach me how to fight later?" Legolas whispered to Rugon, but looked at Pelorian and Sard as well. All of them nodded.

Rugon let him down for Blaon to take, but Sard intercepted the keeper and took Legolas's outstretched hand instead.

Kasslad narrowed his eyes at him and Blaon huffed loudly.

"I think it is time that Legolas had a new keeper," Sard explained. "Blaon does not seem fit enough to handle the king's temper or the small prince's knack for sneaking around."

"I am fit enough," Blaon began to protest.

Kasslad held up a firm hand, silencing him. After a moment he nodded and led the way out of the barracks. Soft clapping followed them, and many patted Sard on the back as he passed.

It was difficult letting Sard's hand go. Legolas refused to glance up at the magician for comfort, but rather steeled his nerves and squared his shoulders. Kasslad opened both of the throne room doors, the guards having long since been dismissed in search for the lost prince. Legolas immediately saw the damage that his father's anger caused. The once billowing red and white curtains were ripped from their posts and tossed across the granite and marble incrusted floor. Rugs made from silk and cashmere had been kicked into piles, and tables made from rosewood lay smashed beneath every window. Vases glazed with gold and silver spread in shattered rivulets across the polished floor, the water and long-stemmed white roses tossed into puddles, their petals crushed.

King Thranduil, however, sat in splendor despite the ruin around him. Long robes, made from spun silver and inlaid with pin-sized sapphires, rested around his long body as he lounged in his white throne. His imposing crown, the one he wore in times of war instead of peace, was of steel and white gold. Legolas longed to see his crown of twigs and berries, but feared he would never see it again.

Thranduil smiled when he saw Legolas and opened his arms for his son to rush to him.

"Where have you been, ion nin?" Thranduil's voice was happy and calm. It was as if the destruction around him didn't exist.

"I wanted to be with the soldiers." Legolas hated how small his voice sounded in the big hall. He hated that he sounded like a child.

"Is that why the magician is with you?" Thranduil asked, still smiling.

"I was hoping to speak with you about becoming Prince Legolas's new keeper," Sard said.

Blaon snorted and drew a glare from the king. Thranduil sneered at Blaon for a moment before beckoning both Legolas and Kasslad to him. Kasslad swiftly picked his little brother up and Legolas was glad. He didn't want to navigate the long way to his father's throne with bare feet. Even as Kasslad walked, Legolas heard the snapping and crunching of glass beneath his boots and hoped none of the shards cut through his soles.

Legolas peered into Kasslad's stoic face, studying his perfect cheekbones and the deep grooves beneath them. He was beautiful, his white eyelashes and brows enhancing the gold in his eyes. He used to be fun, while Oroduil was difficult to laugh around because he followed the rules too closely. But Kasslad hadn't laughed since Kagnirrok came. It was just another thing the dragon stole.

Thranduil's smile widened when they reached him, and he eagerly took Legolas from Kasslad. The king sat his youngest son in his lap to face him and gently brushed Legolas's loose hair behind his ears.

"Still having trouble braiding your hair?" Thranduil asked and laughed before Legolas could answer yes. His blush must have been enough for his father. "Then I will braid your hair for you. Do not be embarrassed. Come to me in the morning before you race out to your adventures and I will gladly do it."

Thranduil's slender hands began separating strands of golden hair and Legolas slowly began to relax. As if sensing this, Thranduil's icy blue eyes softened and the lines around them faded.

"So you wish to give up your high rank in my military, give up your command of the other magicians and abandon your apprentices in order to look after and tutor my son," Thranduil asked, but didn't look up from his task, as if braiding Legolas's hair was the most important part of his day.

Sard and Blaon had slowly approached the throne and now knelt before him on one knee. Blaon fussed with making sure there was no glass before he did, though Sard didn't seem to care.

"Yes, Sire," Sard said.

"Why?"

Legolas turned again to look at his friend, meeting his dark eyes with a smile. He would love to have Sard around all the time. Sard would be able to teach him how to fight when no one was looking, too. Plus . . . he would feel safe.

Thranduil took Legolas's chin in hand and turned him around again to keep braiding his hair. Legolas sat as still as he could.

"Blaon is incompetent." Sard's voice was dry and blunt. "He is impatient with Prince Legolas and fails to keep track of him. I have always loved and been loyal to your family, King Thranduil. Prince Legolas has been set apart from you and the rest, and with a desire to keep him secure I would willingly give up everything to be his keeper."

Thranduil's hands froze and Legolas saw his temper flare in his eyes again, going from calm water to an icy sea.

"What sets Legolas apart?" he asked.

Legolas heard Sard's confusion through his silence.

"Kagnirrok set him apart the moment he came here to view the prince for himself, based on the rumors those filthy humans spread when this kingdom did trade with those in Dale." Sard's anger was bit back with gritted teeth.

Legolas put his hands on his father's cheeks and looked into his eyes, panic building in his chest, his heart racing. He felt the heat from the beast's flames, his nana screaming, Oroduil's face as he told him to hide.

"Kagnirrok came for me?" Legolas whispered. "You said he came for the diamonds."

"You haven't told him?" Sard gasped.

"Ion nin," Thranduil only had eyes for Legolas, "he did come for the diamonds. He only wished to see you, but then he left and hasn't returned. He knows that I would never let him take you from me."

Legolas felt the panic build until he couldn't hold back his tremors. Thranduil squeezed him close, cradled him against his strong chest and then turned venomous eyes on Sard.

"Return to your shadow elves, warlock," Thranduil commanded. "You will never be Legolas's keeper. Look what you've done to him."

"You should have been honest with him," Sard shouted.

Thranduil stood, Legolas still in his arms, and snarled at the magician.

"Return to your killers, trickster," Thranduil shouted. "Do your job and slaughter the scum that tries to crawl into this kingdom. If you truly love this family and my son as you say, then do us all a favor and keep an eye on the merchants returning from Dale. They will be here on the morrow."

Sard stood with a flourish and glared at his king. Legolas tried to catch his eye and shake his head, anything to calm him down, but Sard was too angry.

"You're opening the kingdom back up to them?" Sard shouted. "They are the ones who spread the rumor of Legolas, and of your treasury, which brought the beast down on our heads. Rumors will start again once they see that your son has grown, and he has become even more striking. Do you dare draw that beast back here? Is trade and money worth more to you than what even a dragon holds dear?"

"You are out of line!" Thranduil bellowed for the guards, though where they came from Legolas didn't know. He struggled to get out of his father's arms, but Ada held him tighter to the point of pain. He winced and gasped for air.

"We are also opening our doors to Rivendell and the Golden Wood again," Thranduil said as a dozen guards poured into the ruined throne room. "My son will be safe."


	2. Chapter 2

Sard didn't return to the barracks until nightfall. He had been upset with King Thranduil, Legolas's useless keeper Blaon, and most of all himself. He chastised himself for not being vigilant enough to realize that Legolas hadn't been told why the dragon came to the kingdom aside from his ada's stronghold full of diamonds. Of course Thranduil wouldn't have told his four-year-old elfling that the beast of his nightmares had also come for him, which was why his nana and older brother, Oroduil, the Crown Prince, died saving him.

Sard marched his way to the kitchens to grab what food remained from dinner, and hopefully go to his bunk before the head chef, Fesove, caught him stealing. The halls were dim, torches having burned down, and no one was out. Of course, everyone should be asleep by now except for the night crew and none of them would be out wandering.

He snuck his way into the kitchens. No Fesove. He would have grinned, but the image of Legolas's tiny body trembling in his ada's arms made his stomach roll. Though two years have passed, it still wasn't enough time for an elf, let alone an elfling, to heal from what happened.

Sard could remember it still, very clearly. The beast, Kagnirrok, had come early in the morning. It hadn't mattered that the sun was rising to a beautiful, clear day. The dragon had smelled diamonds, and he thirsted for a glimpse of the Elvenking's youngest – an elf so beautiful that his soul glowed. Sard had just come in from a patrol when he saw the smoke. Of course, due to his high rank he had known why a dragon would come. The storage of diamonds.

He had run all the way to the palace through the screaming mob, letting other captains lead warriors with evacuations and an attack. He thought only of the small elfling who had a tendency to sneak away from his keeper, Blaon, and find trouble wherever he went. If he had slipped away from Blaon again, only Sard had a chance of finding Legolas in time before the kingdom was either destroyed or taken over by the beast.

"I thought you would come back for food," Pelorian, the archer, said.

Sard didn't react. He blinked as he was brought back to the present and realized he was standing, staring into thin air, in the middle of the kitchen.

"Even feral animals return for scraps," Pelorian laughed, though it was a quiet, half-amused one. "I take it from your long absence that King Thranduil didn't make you Legolas's new keeper?"

"Nay, brother," Sard said. "I spoke out of turn and hurt the prince with knowledge that had been kept from him and for good reason. The king sent me away to wait for merchants from Dale to come tomorrow and keep an eye on them."

Pelorian was quiet. Soft footsteps told Sard that his friend approached, but he did not move. His shame kept him still.

"What merchants from Dale?" Pelorian growled. "And what knowledge did you know that the prince did not?" That last he asked hesitantly, as the question was pulled from him by the simple fact that it had hurt their favorite elfling.

"He did not know the dragon came for him," Sard said. "And the king is opening Mirkwood back to trade. The foul humans who brought the dragon on us with their talk of gems and our prince will return and what then, Pel? How can we protect Legolas from his father who slips into madness, a kingdom that darkens and a filthy race that lusts after pure things almost as powerfully as a drake? I fear for him. I fear the dragon will come, we will lose him and all will be lost. The king will break with another death in his family and in turn so will the rest of us."

Pelorian stepped in front of him and stared at him long and hard, pale green eyes awash with worry.

"Have faith, brother," Pelorian managed.

"Faith in what," Sard demanded. "The Valar? The Valar hasn't spared us anything. I will not turn to them now."

"Have faith in us then," Pelorian said. "We will protect this kingdom and its last remaining gem. No human or snake will take Legolas from us, or our future."

"We will find out tomorrow." Sard brushed past Pelorian to the cupboards to grab food. He hesitated. "Spread the word through the troops. I don't want anyone caught by surprise or have any excuse to be lazy tomorrow. Not tomorrow, the day after or the day next. And send someone to keep a close eye on Legolas. Valar knows that Blaon won't."

O

_Legolas clung to his nana as he listened to the screams below the window. His nana's dark golden hair hung around him as she rocked him back and forth, cradling him close to her breast even as she cried. He felt her tears drop onto his head, warm and fast and he was terrified because he did not know what to do. A serpentine shadow passed the window, dark and long. He smelled smoke and sulfur. Both stung his nose and made him cough._

_ "Legolas!" Sard's voice caught his attention and he lifted his head to look at the office door just as it slammed open. His nana jumped and a hand flew to her mouth._

_ "Sard," she choked. "Sard, I know we should be outside of the palace but he came here in his ada's study to play with some toys he hid-"_

_ "I know, my queen." Sard slid to a halt next to them and grabbed her by the arms to haul her to her feet. Legolas watched the magician's dark blue eyes and the fearlessness in his sharp face calmed him._

_ Flames erupted outside of the window and a grating voice that rattled his bones called a name, though Legolas couldn't understand it over the screams that poured out of his home. However, both his nana and Sard seemed to know who the dragon called for because both of them looked at each other in horror. Nana started nodding._

_ "The beast has been calling for him the past twenty minutes," she sobbed. "I got so scared to move him I just stayed here instead. I was so scared if we ran he would see him. What does he want with him, Sard?"_

_ Sard didn't respond, instead ripped Legolas from her arms which made her shriek and slap him. Legolas let Sard hold him, too unsure of what to do otherwise._

_ "If I have him, the beast won't see him," Sard shouted at her, which shocked Legolas. Sard was usually the most respectful soldier out of the whole military, patient and loyal to a fault. "If I have him, you know I can hide him."_

_ Nana stared at Sard for a moment before understanding broke through her terror and she nodded again, tears spilling out of her burnt-golden eyes. Sard began tucking Legolas inside of his jacket and threw his cloak over one shoulder to finish the illusion that he wasn't there. Legolas felt safe._

_ The world rattled and rocks and glass shattered in a screaming rain. Legolas tucked his face against Sard's muscle-hardened chest, feeling the handle of a hidden blade next to his cheek. The stench of smoke grew thicker and Nana hacked as she struggled to breathe. Legolas was glad that he could breathe in Sard's scent to help mask the odor of burning trees and other things he couldn't place. Sard smelled like leather. It centered him and he knew with Sard there that nothing bad would happen._

_ "The beast has broken into the palace," Sard shouted to be heard over the chaos. "We must get out of here."_

_ "Nana!" Oroduil's cry made Legolas try to sit up out of Sard's jacket and supporting arm. Sard held him still in an iron embrace. "Nana, the snake is headed this way." Legolas heard Oroduil run across the study to reach her. "Have you found him? Where is Legolas?"_

"Legolas," was his ada's stern, commanding voice. "You must wake, ion nin." Ada hushed him and a strong hand stroked the length of his back as if to calm his gasping breaths. "You are safe now, tithen las. Ada is here."

Legolas opened his eyes and more tears fell from them, gushing out as if trying to rid his body of fear and sorrow. His whole spirit trembled, shaking his muscles and an ugly sob retched out of his lungs, screaming with its ferocity to be heard, to be saved. He buried his face in his ada's blue robe, breathing in the smell of the forest, of home. He clung to his father, clutching handfuls of robe and pale blond hair, ruining both with his tears and spit.

Ada untangled Legolas's bare feet from the sheets and carried him to the red door between their rooms. Legolas buried his face against his ada's neck, hiding beneath his long curtains of hair and cried harder, screams breaking out of his mouth as if they wanted his nana to hear and come running from the Halls of Mandos, or Oroduil who would sometimes stay up too late and hear his little brother's nightmares, as silly as they were then. Legolas now longed for dreams of darkness, of being trapped in a cave to never see the stars again. It is how he felt now when he closed his eyes and watched over and over again Kagnirrok's smoke mask the sky and the flames eat up all he loved.

"It's my fault," he wailed and opened his eyes again, only to find himself in his ada's room. Ada sat in a white winged chair by a window, a glass of water in his hand. The cool rim pressed against Legolas's lips and tipped, forcing him to calm enough to drink some of it down. He then followed his ada's finger to look outside where stars lit up the night. Legolas rested against his father's firm chest and scowled against the headache that blossomed behind his eyes.

"It is not your fault," his ada soothed and rubbed his back. "Sleep, ion nin. Your ada is here." Ada sounded tired. "Dragons fear me now, and will not come so long as you are with me."

O

The humans were dirty. Legolas spied on them from behind a clothing vendor at the side of Common Street. Human and human were pouring into his home, some greasy faces streaked with dirt and others with lank hair that hung uncombed and unbraided around their round shoulders. Some were even overweight, though they seemed the happiest. Overall, he was both awed and revolted by the race, but he liked how they laughed. Many of them were laughing and smiling, gazing at Mirkwood's inner village with big eyes and wondrous gasps. He missed his people when they laughed, but most of all he missed his brother Kasslad's laugh. It had sounded like freedom, so loud and unbridled that everyone couldn't help but laugh with him.

Legolas was pulled from his musings as one man, and what appeared to be his wife and three half-grown children, spotted him. Legolas cursed a word Rugon had taught him that would have made Blaon smack him on his rear if he heard it.

The man pointed at him, a strange look in his brown eyes. The family huddled together and looked at Legolas, smiling as if he were some lost and scared puppy. Legolas glared at them in return, especially when the daughter clapped her hands as if that would urge him from his hiding place.

"Filthy, aren't they?"

Legolas jumped at Pelorian's voice, even though he had whispered. He turned and smiled at the archer, who crouched behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Lines faded from around his mouth when he did this, as if he had needed to reassure himself that Legolas was with him.

"Are they looking for me yet?" Legolas whispered back.

"Thankfully not," Pelorian said. "Else these humans wouldn't all be laughing, would they?"

Legolas blushed at that, but stood. He was done spying on the filthy humans, having not appreciated how they acted around him. Pelorian scooped him up, earning a cry of protest from Legolas.

"I can walk," Legolas told him. "I'm not small anymore."

"Of course you're not," Pelorian agreed with a serious face, but the glint in his green eyes gave his joke away. "I struggle to hold you, you've grown so big. Allow this old archer the illusion of being able to spoil you like he used to when you were very little." Pelorian produced a honey cake at that, almost as swiftly as Sard. Except Legolas had seen Pelorian struggle to pull it from a pocket first, and grinned at that. Sard was still the best at making treats materialize out of thin air.

Legolas took the honey cake, hands instantly sticky as honey ran in rivulets from the soft bread and onto his fingers and palms. As Pelorian turned to take him back to the palace, he hesitated. Legolas turned with his mouth full of cake to see what the matter was and scowled when he saw the family that had treated him like a dog.

The humans still watched him, smiling and nudging each other as if they weren't already staring. The girl who had clapped now waved at him as if he was a baby, a ridiculous scrunched smile on her face. Other humans pointed at him now, and he heard the faint whispers of "youngest prince" and his name.

Pelorian made a growl in the back of his throat that could have put Rugon's to shame, and almost ran back to the palace.

"Don't tell me that he's been in the barracks again." Blaon sounded disgusted, his voice the first thing Legolas heard as Pelorian burst through the gates and rounded a corner in the direction of the royal wing. The endless line of humans with their wares still stared and the whispers still followed. Blaon didn't seem to notice though, or at least not care.

"How long has he been missing?" Pelorian demanded.

Legolas took another bite of his honey cake, always glad when Pelorian, Rugon or Sard was angry with the elf. He loathed his keeper.

"Not long enough to send his ill-tempered father into another tantrum," Blaon said.

Pelorian's fist moved faster than Legolas could follow. He dropped his honey cake to hold onto the archer better as his body moved, swift as water, and Blaon's face was sent jerking to the left, his long brown hair whirling. The smack of knuckles against soft flesh rebounded through the giant hall, silencing the humans before they all started talking again, this time louder.

Blaon got caught in his billowing green robes and tumbled onto his back. Legolas laughed at the sight, but quieted when his keeper's blazing eyes caught his. Guards ran toward them from down the hallway and the humans started shouting to them stories of what happened, as if eager to be of help all at once.

Pelorian set Legolas on his feet and gave him a gentle push toward the throne room instead of the royal wing. He was still angry, his face pink and a vein bulging between his brows.

"Run to Kasslad," Pelorian ordered. "Tell him what happened."

Legolas nodded and spun around, running as the archer instructed.

O

Thranduil had grown tired of the humans giving condolences for his wife and Crown Prince. He leaned back in his throne and gazed down at the current cluster of mortals from off the bridge of his nose, trying very hard to control his temper. He had listened to hundreds all morning as he greeted them back to Mirkwood and sent them off to his own merchants to deal. However, even the merchants he had vaguely known and the ones who had never come before insisted on giving him gifts to thank him for helping Dale improve its economy and how nothing sold for more than items made in Mirkwood.

"It was a sad day to hear of the dragon flying to your green wood, King," said one dark-haired merchant. The man was cleaner than most, his brown pants even ironed and his leather boots polished. He wore a billowing white shirt with the ties undone at the top, with a sweeping leather trench coat. Sharp blue eyes watched Thranduil and gave the king a reason to glare.

"Such terrible cries filled Dale when we heard that the beautiful queen and admirable Crown Prince had been burned and . . . they were eaten by the beast, were they not?" The merchant, his name lost to Thranduil now, tilted his head in concern and gave his ruse away.

"You mock our pain," Thranduil growled, furious almost to seeing red at the human's audacity. Kasslad, who stood next to him, placed a cautioning hand on his shoulder which he shoved away. "What do you gain from these questions? Do not tell us how sorry you are, for the deaths we suffered did not impact your short lives except a brief end to your trade. Has that made you so bitter as to continuously bring up that black day?"

The merchant did look apologetic, as most were before the king's infamous wrath. Thranduil boiled in it, but was satisfied by the flash of fear in those insufferably confident eyes.

"Mocking your pain was not my intention, Sire," the merchant groveled. "I merely bring up that day to pass on my condolences and to ask . . . hadn't Prince Legolas seen it all? Interesting if he had because that meant he was nearby, which must be incredibly maddening for the beast because I believe the dragon failed to see your son that day. Doesn't that mean he will come back?"

Thranduil almost lurched to his feet, a volley of insults on his tongue, when he noticed a black insignia on the merchant's white shirt. It was on the left side, over the man's heart, and had almost been covered by the trench coat, missed if not for Thranduil's sharp eyes. It was the curled image of a dragon, the implication of which baffled and enraged him.

Before he could call the guards to restrain the man and ask him what the image meant, the pattering of small, bare feet echoed through the shocked silence. Thranduil felt his blood chill, his heart slow, and watched in horror as Legolas bolted into the room through the open doors, past the quiet humans.

"Kasslad," Legolas shouted.

Thranduil stood, hand lifted to bring out the guards, but the merchant had already seen his youngest son. The merchant's piercing eyes landed on the elfling and his hand flicked down to catch him.

"No!" Kasslad moved to run forward, a dagger in his shaking fist, but Thranduil grabbed his arm. Kasslad turned to confused, furious and terrified eyes on him, only to follow his ada's attention back to Legolas.

The elfling was pressed against the merchant, a steel blade pushed beneath his delicate chin and into his soft throat. If the merchant moved the blade even an inch, Legolas would die.

"Look at this," the merchant breathed, a twisted smile on his long face. "He is a pretty one, isn't he?"


	3. Chapter 3

Legolas held his breath. The blade was cold against his throat and he could feel it already cutting his skin. The merchant smelled like tobacco, which made him want to gag. He held the reflex back though, terrified that the sharp knife would slice deeper. The blood that trickled down his neck and into the front of his white tunic was hot. He watched Ada and Kasslad and took in their pale faces and wide eyes. Kasslad looked defeated, arms hanging limp at his sides with tears on his cheeks. Ada . . . he looked like he did when the dragon came. Ada towered over everyone else in the throne room, blue eyes blazing like balls of fire, hands fisted and his soul pulsating with power. It pressed down across the hall and with it light began to fade.

Legolas shivered, scared of him again, and the knife cut deeper at his movement and he winced. It sliced him again, farther along his throat and a panicked sob escaped his lips.

Heated silence followed and the merchant laughed.

"Release him," Thranduil commanded and the guards that had rushed into the hall from around the throne took a cautious step closer. Legolas knew many of them from the barracks and saw fury in their usually happy faces.

The merchant began to laugh again and moved his left hand, the one that had been on Legolas's chest, to his jacket. His laugh morphed to a deep, gurgling choke and Legolas felt the knife slip from his grasp. Before Legolas could make a run for the nearest warrior, strong and familiar hands grabbed him under the arms and lifted him to a lean, muscular chest. He felt the coolness of hidden blades beneath the black uniform and knew it was Sard before looking into his furious dark eyes. The magician wrapped powerful arms around him and Legolas felt secure enough to look back at the merchant.

White and pink foam bubbled up from his mouth. The man lay on his back as if every muscle had lost its strength, his eyes rolled into his head. A trail of blood ran out of one nostril, making a path along his cheek and into his ear.

"What did you do?" Legolas didn't even remember seeing Sard nearby, let alone how he could kill the man without touching him. He began to understand why his ada called him a black magician. Thinking of the nickname as he watched the merchant struggle in his last, watery breaths made Legolas cold with fear.

Instead of answering him, Sard cupped a hand behind his head to turn his gaze away from the merchant. He didn't manage it in time though, before Legolas saw the man's body shudder and fall limp. Though he didn't see an actual soul, he felt it pass away.

Legolas clung to Sard, feeling safe with him even though he was now terrified of the elf.

"Why did you kill him?" Ada's voice rang across the room. The humans just outside the wide open doors quailed and huddled closer together, like being in a group could protect them from the Elvenking.

Other hands tried to pull Legolas from Sard, but he refused to let go until he saw that it was Kasslad. Sard gave him a comforting squeeze before passing him over.

"Where is Blaon?" Kasslad's voice was shaking.

"I don't want to go," Legolas muttered, shock still making him tremble. The blood dripping from his throat made him scared and he didn't want to look at the front of his tunic.

"I will visit you when we get this chaos settled," Kasslad promised, sealing it with a kiss on Legolas's forehead.

"I killed him to save the prince from being abducted," Sard told the king, walking over to the body and pulling out a black pouch from inside the man's jacket. "He was reaching for this." Sard dipped two fingers into the pouch and withdrew a pinch of gray powder. He threw it and billowing smoke filled the hall. "This is dragon's breath. He would have escaped with it."

Sard dropped the bag back on the body and stood before Ada again. Black smoke coiled around him, slowly fading. It reminded Legolas of dragon's breath. It was a fitting name.  
>"This man had a dragon emblem on his chest," Ada shouted. Legolas saw that his father was still furious, filled with the same wrath that had made the dragon flee. He shrank back from the dark power pouring out of him, glad that the king hadn't rushed to him like he had that day when Kagnirrok came. It took months for Legolas to feel safe around Ada after that. Sard, however, stood his ground.<p>

"He spoke as if he was in league with Kagnirrok," Ada shouted.

Sard looked to the body and walked over to it, jerking the trench coat out of his way so he could see the black, spindly dragon on the man's shirt. He looked up and met Legolas's gaze just as Pelorian and Blaon, as well as a dozen more soldiers, hurried into the room.

"My prince." Pelorian fell to one knee before Kasslad, eyes frantically searching Legolas's chest for a source to all the blood.

"Take him to his rooms." Kasslad handed Legolas to Blaon, but Legolas kicked his keeper in the gut and stretched his hands to his brother, fearful tears finally making their appearance.

"I don't want to go," he cried. "Kasslad!"

O

Legolas fought Blaon the whole way back to his quarters. He couldn't escape the surging terror that still ripped its way through him, and it resulted in his screaming and tears. He didn't feel safe with Blaon. He wanted to be with his family or one of the warriors, namely Sard. A fierce determination overtook him and he knew that one day he would be a black magician too. He would be so deadly and so fierce that every race in Arda would tremble at his name and no one would hurt him, those close to him or his kingdom. First he had to escape Blaon and beg Sard to apprentice him.

The soft, spidery hands that held him threw him across his room and he hit the bed. He rolled twice, shocked that Blaon had tossed him like he was a bag of trash. Before he could turn and demand why his keeper had disrespected him, a hand slapped him across the face and then backhanded him before he had a chance to gasp. Pain ricocheted through his skull, his cheeks and mouth burning with the blows. He pressed a hand against his bottom lip and felt blood.

Blaon took hold of his shoulders and shook him, blue eyes filled with something more than disgust, but Legolas couldn't place it. All he knew was that it was ugly and he needed to get away.

"How do you like it, brat?" Blaon shoved him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him as he landed on his right side against the rug. Blaon's boot flung at him, but he wasn't quick enough to roll away from the kick to his stomach. "It doesn't feel good when someone hits you, does it?"

Legolas was too shocked to cry, too stunned to do more than stare up at his keeper and wince as he lifted another hand against him.

"Get off me!" Blaon suddenly shouted.

Legolas looked back and saw Rugon's mighty figure twisting Blaon's arms back, an enraged frown on his wide face, gray eyes darkened to almost black. Rugon wrestled Blaon to the ground within seconds, strangely silent. Legolas wasn't used to seeing him fight, and found himself unsure how to act without the friendly smirk or teasing remark to guide him. He pushed himself across the floor and against the wall, scraping up the courage to stand and walk calmly back to the throne room to inform his brother that he wanted Blaon dismissed.

Three of Rugon's knights took hold of Blaon, tied his hands behind his back and stood him up.

"I wasn't going to hurt him seriously," Blaon argued. "I gave him a taste of his own medicine. He kept hitting me so he needed to understand how it felt."

Rugon's powerful hand slapped Blaon and then backhanded him, splitting his lip like Legolas's had been. Before Blaon could protest, eyes still unfocused, Rugon punched him in the gut. Blaon doubled over and would have fallen had not the soldiers on either side of him held him up.

"A six-year-old doesn't hit like a grown elf," Rugon growled. "And he likely hit you because he knew better than any of us the sort of scum you are."

Rugon raised a hand for the soldiers to take Blaon away when the sweeping windows along the far wall shattered. A flaming arrow plunged into Blaon's face, and another went through the soldier's neck to his right. Where Blaon's nose and mouth had been was suddenly a black and bleeding hole, flames licking out from between broken teeth before he slid to the floor. The soldier next to him almost lost his head by the impact, his black uniform catching flame. The other two soldiers backed against the wall, shouting for help though their words were lost on Legolas. His ears were filled with the thumping of blood through his veins, accompanied by a high-pitched whine that brought his headache back from the night before. Legolas curled in on himself, listening to the distant whoosh as more arrows volleyed through the glass and into his room.

Rugon's body was suddenly on top of him, a heavy weight that shielded him from the growing heat in the room. Legolas looked up into Rugon's face, unable to stop his frightened tears. Rugon gave him a smile but it didn't reach his gray eyes. Legolas searched his face for what to do, how to get up and get out of there, but as he watched Rugon the light in his eyes began to fade.

"Rugon!" Legolas reached out and gripped him by the hair, shaking him. "Rugon, we need to get out of here!"

But his friend didn't respond, as if he hadn't even heard him. His eyelids fell closed and the smile on his lips disappeared. Rugon's weight grew heavier, pinning him to the stone floor. Legolas gasped for air, his lungs restricted and screamed. Rugon's soul had left him behind, Rugon was dead, just like Nana and Oroduil and even Blaon. He hated Blaon but he couldn't make his keeper's punctured face from his thoughts. He screamed and he pushed against Rugon's body, kicking with every ounce of strength that he had. He heard the clatter of more arrows and smelled smoke. Burning. Something was burning. He struggled to see passed Rugon and saw orange flicker on the vaulted ceiling high above their heads. Fire. The room was on fire.

Kagnirrok. Had the dragon returned for him?

Sheer and utter panic overwhelmed him and he pushed harder at the elfin knight. Gradually he squeezed his upper body away from Rugon, but his black pants were caught on something, likely some of Rugon's buckles. Legolas clawed at the floor, inching his way free, fingernails breaking. His entire bed was engulfed in flame, as were the white and green curtains along the entire south-facing wall. Smoke suffocated him, pressing down on him. The flames roared and he could almost swear that he saw a serpentine shadow fly just outside the windows, calling his name with that bone-drumming voice.

"My prince!" one of the soldiers, Legolas didn't know which, grabbed his outstretched arms and pulled on him until he was free of Rugon's body. The soldier scooped him into his arms and rushed out into the hallway and into disarray. Screams filled the palace and Legolas called for his ada.

Then his ada was there. Thranduil's eyes were wide, his spirit still raging and dark, but Legolas didn't care. He opened his arms to his father and was transferred to him. Thranduil draped his outer robe over his son, covering his bare legs and bottom. It wasn't until then that he noticed he had lost his pants escaping Rugon's body.

Legolas shivered and welcomed the protection of his ada's robe, burying himself into his father's chest and simply let the world descend into chaos around him.

O

"Tell me what this means." Thranduil lifted one of the rolled pieces of papyrus that had been bound around each of the arrows that were used to attack his son. Each sheet was the same: a black and curling image of a dragon. The spindly image made Thranduil nauseated to even look at. "It was on that merchant's shirt, as well."

Sard stood in Thranduil's study just outside of the king's bedroom where Legolas slept. With them was Pelorian, commander of the archers, and Rugon's replacement, Naspen. Thranduil studied the previous second-in-command over the warriors and elite knights. Naspen wasn't as largely built as Rugon was, but he made up for it in height. The elf towered over even him, and was still broad and powerful. Thranduil would miss Rugon, and couldn't help but resent Naspen for taking his place even though it was necessary.

Also with them were Kasslad and council representative, High Chair Inamgia. Thranduil studied the elleth, hating that she had to be here. He didn't trust the council and would have rather done this without anyone from that board present. As if sensing his displeasure, the elleth raised her dark brows, challenging him to throw her out.

"It would seem that this is a cult," Sard said. "It was well known that the humans in Dale often looked to us as a sort of higher race, and some even went so far as to worship us, though not many. Since we were attacked by a dragon, a species even greater than our own, I would dare to suggest that we are looking at a group of people that have decided to worship Kagnirrok. I'm sure the beast would love to discover this, especially if they are this determined to capture the prince and deliver him to the snake themselves."

"Then why attack Legolas?" Kasslad was still pale and shaken from the tireless events of the day.

"Kagnirrok's followers probably had no intention to seriously injure the prince, but rather take out those around him and let us know they will keep coming, maybe even trying to get us to give him up," Sard said, and a dark smile lifted the corner of his mouth, as if amused that anyone would try to frighten him.

Thranduil seethed and stood, unable to sit still. He paced the length of his study, throwing anxious glances to his bedroom door, waiting for his elfling to scream from his regular nightmares. He was certain tonight would be worse than normal.

"Do you think the snake could have sent these humans?" Thranduil asked.

"No," Sard said. "I would wager that Kagnirrok has no idea they exist."

Thranduil snorted and continued pacing.

"We should close off the kingdom again," High Chair Inamgia announced, throwing her head back and pinning Thranduil with frosted green eyes. "Keep the humans out of Mirkwood and thus keep Kagnirrok's cult away from the prince."

"No," Thranduil snapped. "I will not sit here and hide from them. We must respond to this attack with one of our own."

"We do not know where they meet or who leads them," Naspen argued, his voice monotone and as cool as steel. "We can't charge into Dale and expect their king to understand why we blindly burned down every home to eradicate a small group."

"Do we know it's small?" Thranduil snapped.

"Until we know more, we can do nothing against Dale." Naspen met his glare with calm, almost bored blue eyes. "Not unless you want war with both them and their allies, the dwarves under the mountain. They will not care that you are doing this to protect your son."

"Unless we direct the dragon to the dwarves instead," Thranduil hissed. "Send the beast to their mountains of gold and let their kingdom burn. I would do it to spare Legolas. I would see every human and dwarf die and suffer in place of my son."

"Dangerous words, my king," Naspen said. "It is best to investigate before acting rashly."

"We can call for help," Kasslad interrupted. "Rivendell and the Golden Wood would come to our aide. We need only ask."

Thranduil tore his scowl away from Naspen and studied his son. His daughter, Chailiel, was in Lothlorien with Lord Elrond's daughter, Arwen. Both had fled there after their mothers died, though Arwen's had sailed instead of being torn to shreds by a dragon. Perhaps the other elven realms would help. . . .

"In the meantime," Thranduil decided, "double security around the palace, send out more patrols and every human who enters this kingdom will be searched before allowed entrance. Anyone with the image of a dragon on their person will be taken to the dungeons."

"What of Legolas's keeper?" Sard asked. "He will need a new one, and one who can protect him."

Thranduil gritted his molars together at the thought of Blaon. The idiot elf had no foresight and no patience. If Kagnirrok's followers hadn't killed him, Thranduil would have lobbed his head off himself and placed it on a spike outside of the palace.

"Kasslad," Thranduil said. "Hold interviews. Find Legolas a new keeper."

"I am willing to take the job, my king," Sard said.

"You will be busy investigating this cult," Thranduil ordered. "Find out how to destroy them. That is how you can help my son."

"What of the funeral?" Pelorian's voice was muted, his eyes downcast. Thranduil saw Sard's shoulder slump and place a comforting hand on his friend's back.

That was when Legolas started to scream again.


	4. Chapter 4

Thranduil was worried about Legolas. Rugon's death and the attack had been three weeks ago and still his son had not said a word. He feared that his youngest was slipping into the state he had been in after the dragon's raid. Legolas hadn't spoken to anyone for six months once Kagnirrok had fled and his loved ones buried, but of course he had also been two years younger and terrified of his own ada. Thranduil still cursed himself for running up to Legolas's hiding place after battling with the beast. As Elvenking, he had inherited certain abilities that other elves don't have and would never want. Turning his dark, furious spirit onto his small son had not been wise, especially after having just fought off the dragon.

The last of the summer storms whispered against the windows outside, knocking for entrance. The rain wept down the panes and lightning flickered through a churning sky. The cold blue flashes made Thranduil scared. The dragon had come during the end of winter, and though two years had passed he was still afraid of the coming snows and the thaw that followed. Each year he still asked himself: is this it? Will the fire beast of the south return as the ice melts and before the trees blossom?

Roaring booms of thunder rattled the chandeliers and left ripples in the clear glass water jug on the nightstand. As Thranduil waited for the rumbling to cease, and the memories of Kagnirrok's gravely call for his son to fade, his attention returned to Legolas. His elfling was lost to elven dreams, but they were not peaceful ones. The pucker of his brows said as much and it broke Thranduil's heart.

Legolas slept in his bed, curled on his side and with the blankets under his tightly closed eyes. Thranduil stroked his son's white brows, smoothing out their creases, and longed to hear the elfling's chirping voice and laugh that sounded like a cool spring wind through the trees. Even the elfling's spirit had dimmed. The glitter in Legolas's gold-woven locks and glass-smooth skin had diminished to a mere flicker. He feared now the rumors that he was fading might be true. What Legolas had been through was too much for one so young.

He laid a hand on Legolas's soft, round cheek and grimaced at its chill. If something wasn't done quickly, there would be no more worry for the dragon returning. The beast would never risk coming back for a corpse.

"Ai, Ayanu," Thranduil called for his wife, a prayer lost to another roll of thunder. Tears gathered in his eyes and a pain pierced his heart, so painful, so forceful, that he almost doubled over. "Show me what to do?"

To make things worse, the anger in him was growing and he was afraid of it. He was getting lost more and more to his mounting fury and was scared that one day he would not be able to come back from it, that it would blind him, and was terrified that Legolas and Kasslad would see another loved one lost. Most of all he was terrified that he would hurt them in one of his red rages. . . Or dragon rages, as he heard the staff begin to call them.

"Help me save him," he begged Ayanu, tears breaking free of his eyes. He pushed at them, mad that he couldn't hold them back. "Help me save this family."

But all that answered him was the steady rain, as if Mandos wept with him, unwilling to do anything else.

O

Sard was talking with the other magicians. Legolas watched the dark wizard march through the small group of black clad elves. Though none of them wore any kind of insignia declaring what sort of soldiers they were, it was still obvious. Out of the entire military, these were the only elves that didn't seem to be carrying any weapons. But like Sard, they had every blade, powder and poison expertly hidden. Legolas wanted to stand with them, to listen to Sard's commands and be counted as one of them. Instead, he stayed crouched behind the tree at the edge of the courtyard amid the barracks. Though many other warriors went about their business around him, none seemed to notice him. Of course, the old oak he leaned against whispered his name in hello but did nothing else to speak with him. None of the trees ever did anymore, not since the dragon. They blamed him, called him "lhug mir," which was Sindarian for "dragon jewel." They whispered that he would bring the snake back to burn the rest of them.

Legolas usually tried to stay away from the trees. He already blamed himself enough without their help. He wouldn't even use the old oak to hide behind, but in the courtyard this was the only good place to be without drawing unwanted attention.

Still, he couldn't quite hear what Sard was saying to the other magicians. It had something to do with a cult, but the few other words he caught made no sense. He glanced up at the afternoon sun and glared at it for scaring away any shadows he could have used to get closer. Taking a deep breath, he inched his way into the oak and farther out on one of the branches that reached towards the dark group of elves.

As he crawled, clothes catching on the rough bark, a surge of dislike rose through the tree. Legolas froze when he felt it and realized that he would be wise to climb down and walk away from the oak. Trees often got like this when he became too comfortable with them, which was something he learned very soon after the dragon's attack. Though, he had never climbed so far into one of them since he had always been too small, so the damage had never been too bad except for a few new nightmares.

Legolas placed a hand on the branch beneath him.

_I am only trying to listen to the elves nearby. I won't be bothering you for long, old oak,_ he said.

_What if the dragon comes? Am I to burn with you?_ Its furious response made fellow aspens around the courtyard sway with fear and Legolas felt their trepidation as well.

Legolas used another one of Rugon's bad words and the oak trembled in anger.

_You will do as I say_, Legolas tried to use his ada's commanding voice, the one where people cowered before him. _I mean you no harm._

_You are the lhug mir. You are dirty!_

Before Legolas could argue with it any further, the branch gave a violent jerk and he lost his grip. An early winter wind spun around him, catching his hair and clothes as he fell. Gravity yanked at his body, and his stomach twisted at the empty space below him that was quickly being closed by the rough cobblestones below. He hadn't realized how high he had climbed.

Pain erupted in his right elbow, hip and knee. It stung and for a moment he could see nothing. Twigs were thrown down at him and he felt a few cut his face and left arm, but otherwise he did nothing but curl in on himself, willing the pain to leave him.

"My prince?" a voice called, as if unsure that it was really him who had suddenly dropped out of the tree.

Legolas took a deep draw on the cool fall air, the earthy smell of rain still clinging to it from the night before, and opened his eyes. The stones beneath him were sticking into his ribs and shoulder, bugs crawling between the diamond-shaped pieces and disappearing into the brittle weeds. The frantic thud of boots rumbled the ground beneath him and he tried to sit up, just managing to do so when at least a dozen soldiers and magicians surrounded him.

Too many worried questions swirled around him, making little sense through the annoying ringing in his ears. He scowled at them, wanting to latch onto one and whatever was coming from his or her mouth, but the pain in his right side was too distracting. Hands were gripping him, all patting and pulling as if they all wanted to help. He scowled harder at them.

"Get back," one command rang over the voices. "Give him some room."

Sard crouched in front of him, dark blue eyes swimming with fear. Legolas relaxed and gave him a grateful smile.

"Where are you hurt, tithen las?" Sard asked, his soothing voice like a medicinal cream in his ears, calming the pain in his head and the last echoes of the chaos that had surrounded him.

Before he had a chance to tell the magician where he had struck the courtyard, the warrior's gentle hands were probing him for breaks and other wounds. Legolas flinched when Sard touched his right arm, and Sard hissed as if he felt the same pain.

After a few tense moments where none of the watching elves moved or spoke, and Sard examined his arm and knee, the magician gave him a smile and cupped his face.

"Just a few scratches, my prince," Sard said. "We can treat them here if you do not wish to return to the palace, and your new keeper. Who is it today?"

A few soldiers laughed, though Legolas missed the joke. Suddenly self conscious, he swallowed and blushed. None of the keepers that Kasslad had tried out with him stayed long. In fact, the one who stayed the longest had only been around for four days. The rest didn't give more than a day, let alone a few hours. Legolas didn't know why, but had heard a few of the complaints as they exited and when Kasslad tried to stop them. Most had said they didn't want to be responsible for him if he was hurt, and others declared him "dragon cursed" and didn't want the trouble that followed him to rub off. Though, they always added that they loved him, worshipped him even like he was one of the Valar, and that he was indeed very beautiful. Then they would leave and he never saw any of them again.

"Legolas," Sard whispered, drawing him back to the courtyard and their audience of staring soldiers. "Do you want to stay or do you want me to take you to the palace?"

Legolas studied Sard, took in his long black hair and his thick, powerful brows. They made his dark eyes mysterious and wise, as if hiding the two thousand years that the elf had lived behind a door made of volcanic glass. Legolas didn't mind that he couldn't see and read every thought that the magician had, and found an endless amount of comfort in those fortress-eyes. Somehow, when they looked at him, he felt included in their dark barriers. He felt safe. More importantly, he felt loved.

However, staring into Sard's hooded eyes is not what he wanted. He didn't want to feel safe with anyone, not when they would throw themselves over him and die just like his nana, Oroduil and now Rugon had. Tears burned and he blinked them back. He wanted to defend himself. No one else would die for him. He would protect them for a change, which was why he had come to the barracks today. He needed to learn how to be a magician.

"Do you want to stay with me here?" Sard asked.

Legolas blinked back more tears, embarrassed that he had forgotten to answer his friend's question. That had been happening a lot since Rugon died. He kept getting lost in his head, in the memories and the grief. He didn't know how to stop the endless swirl of thought and emotion; how it brought the pain back that he had fought so hard to overcome after the dragon attack. The slightest sound or smell would tear him from reality though, hurling him to the trap of memory and he would forget everything else.

It happened again. Legolas bit his lip and nodded to Sard, yes he wanted to stay. He feared that if he spoke then the tears would fall and he would dissolve to nothing more than the weak elfling everyone seemed to think he was. He swallowed hard again to get a hold of himself.

Sard smiled, though a heavy sadness now weighed down the corners of his brows and eyes. The magician scooped him into his arms and the crowd began to disperse.

"Now what is a wood sprite doing falling out of trees?" Sard's voice was light and laughing, which confused Legolas. His friend did not look happy. "Were you spying on us?"

Legolas watched as the other magicians walked with them back to the middle of the courtyard, many looking his way and smiling warmly at him. However, Sard halted and his banter died. Legolas twisted in his arms to see what was wrong, and again became trapped in those hooded eyes.

"Are the trees still angry with you?" Sard asked.

Legolas blushed again and the tears returned. He ducked his head into Sard's chest and played with a button on his uniform instead of answering. He knew it was wrong for the trees to hate him. It wasn't natural and he was humiliated by it.

Sard's body tensed as if Legolas had somehow confirmed his suspicion.

"Take the tree down," he commanded.

Legolas jumped and stared at him. The tears won their battle and fell down his cheeks, though now they were cold. He grabbed Sard's chin and made the magician look at him.

"Nothing is allowed to hurt you," Sard whispered. "Not while I live."

Legolas shook his head, lost for words, both touched by Sard's friendship and horrified that he would hurt the old oak. He held nothing against the tree, just blamed himself for nature being disgusted with him. It was his fault alone, him and Kagnirrok of course.

After a moment Sard held up his free hand. Whatever commotion had taken over the courtyard ceased.

"Do it later," he said. "It is not for the prince's eyes."

Legolas heard the old oak and surrounding aspens wail. The fall wind blew through their branches, twisting their leaves that were morphing from green to the colors of blood and gold. The wind snuck into his tunic and hugged him with its icy arms and he shivered. His heart ached, but still he could find no words to argue with Sard. The warriors were too protective of him. It's why Rugon had died.

It's why Legolas needed to get away, so no one else could be hurt. Not even the trees.

O

The bath was cold. It had had enough time to grow cold, but it hadn't felt warm when Legolas got in either. Even so, he didn't get out. What the old oak had said to him before throwing him away still rang in his ears: _You are dirty!_

So Legolas scrubbed. He felt dirty. He felt the "dragon curse" on his skin, just like some of his keepers said before they left him. He had a responsibility to his family and friends, to his kingdom, to be clean. Because he wasn't, too many had been hurt.

The tears ran freely from his eyes since no one was around to watch them. He scraped at his arms, his face, his legs, his chest, hoping that the soap would get rid of whatever the dragon wanted from him. Sard had said Kagnirrok wanted to see him, just see him, so he would wash it away. Then the trees would let him climb them again, then people wouldn't be afraid to be around him, then his ada wouldn't get so angry and Kasslad would laugh again.

"Ion nin?"

Legolas jumped, startled, and gazed up at his ada.

"What are you doing?" Thranduil looked horrified and rushed to the tub, silvery-blue eyes wide and frantic. "You have scrubbed yourself raw!"

Legolas flinched at the shout and blushed, not having realized what he had done. He looked down at himself and saw how the washcloth had left his skin mostly pink, though angry red in many places and bleeding in others. The cold water had red tendrils swimming through it, as if his blood had turned to little snakes. He cringed at the thought.

A towel wiped over his face, taking away his tears, and then hands lifted him out of the water. The towel was wrapped around him tight, the top half being used to dry his sopping hair.

"You are shivering," his ada muttered. Legolas was glad he didn't shout again.

Legolas also hadn't realized he had been cold enough to shiver. He noticed it now, though, and tucked closer to his ada.

"What is the matter, ion nin?" Thranduil whispered, as if careful not to raise his voice. "Speak to me, please. Tell me what is wrong."

Legolas longed to tell his ada, but the words would not come. He didn't know how to explain it. He twisted his right arm around, his attention drawn to the pain coming from the scrapes he had gotten earlier that day. Thranduil took his arm in hand and clicked his tongue.

"This will not happen again." Thranduil's voice was still soft. "I have found you a keeper myself. He will not let you get hurt like this with him around."

Legolas perked up at that, immediately thinking of Sard. The tears stopped at the thought of spending every day with his friend and was content allowing his ada help him get ready for bed. He still slept in his ada's room, even though his own bed had been replaced and his room cleaned and redecorated. Regardless, he couldn't bear to be in it.

Thranduil kissed him on the forehead and smiled.

"Now sleep, tithen las," he said. "I will be back later."

Legolas watched him walk across the room, silver shadows from the full moon trailing him as he left and shut the door. As soon as the door was closed, Legolas sat up. He would sleep after he saved the old oak.

O

Thranduil sat in the throne room, glad to be able to do business while not being in the council chambers and with the board breathing down his neck overseeing every decision he made about his kingdom. But for this, no one could question him.

"What do you mean you found him a keeper?" Kasslad was angry. Of course he is. Thranduil had tasked him with finding Legolas a keeper weeks ago and the Crown Prince had failed. It would be humiliating for anyone, but because Kasslad was his son he had at least given him the news lovingly.

"Legolas can no longer be wandering the kingdom as he so chooses, ion nin," Thranduil said. "I gave you enough time, and now I have found him one. The man will be here any minute."

"Man?" Kasslad's normally golden pallor reddened.

As if on queue, the throne doors opened. However, instead of who Thranduil expected it was Pelorian, his archer and sniper commander . . . as well as another warrior, one he didn't know.

"What is wrong?" Thranduil demanded.

Pelorian and the other elf bowed to him and then Kasslad, who stood on his right.

"This is Yoneliel, one of my best snipers," Pelorian introduced the stocky elf.

Yoneliel had red hair, all of it pulled back in a single knot. The elf was thick with muscle, but his blue eyes were calm and kind. The sniper stood to attention at the introduction, stiff until Thranduil waved a hand before relaxing again.

"What of him?" Thranduil asked, feeling his blood begin to heat in anger for being bothered by something less than an emergency at this hour, especially when he was about to begin other business – business he took very seriously because it involved his elfling.

Kasslad rested a hand on his shoulder, reminding him to calm down. Thranduil took a measured breath through his nose.

"Your soldiers love Prince Legolas very much, Sire," Pelorian said. "He visits us often and has made friends out of almost the entire military. After what happened today at the courtyard, we all decided that the prince needed someone to be his keeper that could not only keep track of him but protect him. Because you will not allow Sard to fill this very important and dangerous job, we have elected Yoneliel and he has accepted pending your approval."

Thranduil leaned back in his throne. All anger vanished and he began to laugh. Pelorian and Yoneliel's brows quirked in confusion, but otherwise their expressions remained schooled.

"I am delighted that the kingdom military is so devoted and protective of my young son," Thranduil said. "Though I am softened by this gesture, it is not needed. I have found a keeper for Legolas already. He will be here shortly."

"Sire, with all due respect, Blaon had the position since Legolas's birth," Pelorian said. "Yet Blaon did not fulfill his responsibilities correctly. Legolas was hurt under his care more times than I can count, including by his own hand."

"It is Prince Legolas," Thranduil corrected, though lazily. He was still too amused by Pelorian to be angry with him. "I quite agree that Blaon was a terrible keeper. However, he was appointed by my late son Oroduil, so I hope you are not saying anything about his judgment."

Pelorian's neck colored and he shook his head.

"Never, Sire," Pelorian promised. "I only suggest that Yoneliel is willing and able."

"He would be better than any man," Kasslad muttered.

"Man?" Pelorian and Yoneliel echoed each other. Though they still kept their faces calm, both stiffened.

"His name is Indari," Thranduil explained. "He was a merchant guard almost his whole fifty-two years and was here when the dragon attacked. He lost his whole family that day and barely escaped with his life. He is devoted to this kingdom and keeping the royal family safe, for he does not want us to close our doors again and risk Dale suffering in consequence. I trust him, which means so should you."

Pelorian looked ready to argue and Thranduil watched him with amusement, daring the sniper commander to challenge him.

"I would like to meet him, Sire," he said instead, and whatever words he held back looked painful as he swallowed them.

"So you shall, whenever he shows up."

O

Legolas heard the soldiers in the courtyard and knew he might already be too late. He started running through the barrack halls, bare feet slapping the cold stones, his blue robe billowing behind him as he ripped around each corner. Finally he burst into the courtyard.

Indeed, there were many soldiers. Most whooped as others with axes and torches entered the courtyard from the other side, while some were dead-faced with icy eyes. Legolas shoved his way through the crowd, intent on reaching the old oak before anyone else. It scared him that these elves were so willing to kill something that had harmed him. Didn't they understand that he was dirty, that he deserved to be thrown?

"Stop!" one shout burst through the cheers.

"The prince," other elves cried.

The excited cries began to silence. Soldiers stepped out of Legolas's way once they saw him coming. After a few more hurried steps he positioned himself in front of the oak and turned to face the mob.

Crickets chirped. The wind whistled. Dying leaves rattled.

Legolas's mouth was dry. How could he come all this way with nothing planned for how he would make them stop? He didn't know what to say, but desperately sought the right words. The old oak behind him creaked and kept its thoughts to itself, for which he was glad.

"My prince," one soldier stepped forward, one Legolas recognized as a knight who worked often with Rugon. His name was Iros. "You look cold." It was then that Legolas saw the heavy black coat the knight held out to him. After a moment the soldier draped it over Legolas's shoulders, and it made him feel very small by how it dragged on the cobblestones and devoured his body. Iros grinned, one of his front teeth cracked, as if he was thrilled to be able to do something for him.

Flattered, Legolas granted him a smile and tucked the collar under his chin before facing the rest. Sard stood at the front of the crowd, now. His friend had his hands folded in front of him, black bushy brows hiding his eyes, but Legolas felt that Sard was glad to see him – as he always was.

The crowd waited.

Then he knew what to say, and his heart swelled with hope that they would listen.

"You are supposed to be in bed."

Legolas and the soldiers turned just as palace guards and a man entered the courtyard. Legolas was surprised to see a man here, especially since the kingdom was closed at night to those from Dale.

The man wasn't overly tall, but not short either. Nor was he thin or heavy. The man wore palace clothes; much like what Blaon wore which matched his status as Legolas's keeper. This human was donned in red silk robes, except worn differently than the style accustomed to elves. The robes were wrapped around his body as if to allow better movement, the long sleeves secured with black armguards just like his legs were covered in leather armor. A black tie showed his lean waist, keeping his expensive elven clothes from sweeping around him like a cloud.

The most striking feature about him was he had no hair. A pale scalp shone in the twitching red and orange torchlight. Legolas met his cold eyes, which were the color of muddy puddles that collect in gutters, surrounded by long black eyelashes that almost make him handsome. Big lips twisted up along his lined cheeks like heavily manipulated steel, and Legolas supposed it was meant to be a smile.

The man crouched, but he wasn't close. It was as if he knew to keep his distance while in the presence of this particular mob. Legolas felt Sard sneaking closer and felt secure.

"I am Indari, dear prince," the man said. "I am your new keeper, hired by King Thranduil. I saw you dodging your way out of the palace as I made my way in. It is good that I did too. Look at this mob. What would they have done to you had I and the palace guards not come just now?"

Legolas began to shake his head, a protest and explanation on his lips but suddenly hands lifted him into the air and he was held tight against a hard body. He turned and saw it was one of the palace guards, and by then the soldiers around him were already shouting and his chance to tell his new keeper the truth was gone. He turned in the guard's arms and searched for Sard, and found the magician trailing behind them as they left the barracks, dark eyes lost in shadow. For the first time, seeing Sard close didn't make him feel better.

At least the mob was turning away from the old oak. Perhaps his attempt at saving a life wasn't lost, then.

O

"Isn't he going to be a good keeper?" Thranduil asked.

Legolas watched Indari from his ada's arms, still wrapped in Iros's heavy jacket which he planned to return tomorrow. They had gathered in the throne room, both he and his ada, Kasslad, Pelorian and Yoneliel, Sard and this strange Indari. The soldiers were eyeing the human, but the retired merchant guard didn't seem to care. He stood before Thranduil, Kasslad and him with his hands behind his back and eyes following Legolas as Ada paced. Sard looked like he wanted to have a weapon in his white, shaking fists.

"I'd like to see you try to escape him, tithen pen," Ada laughed and rubbed warmth onto his back, hugging him closer.

"Shall I take him to his bed?" Indari asked. "It is past midnight now, and he will have studies tomorrow. It appears that he is well behind the level of education that he should be at now, and I intend to repair that."

Thranduil chuckled while Sard bristled. Legolas looked up at his ada with wide eyes, terrified of this human taking him to his chambers. The last time it had been Blaon. . . .

"Yes." Ada kissed him on the cheek and Kasslad ruffled his hair before he was set on his feet. "Sleep well and I will see you when I am done here."

Legolas searched his brother's face, hoping he might come with him, but Kasslad was already watching Pelorian and Yoneliel who began whispering to each other. A big, rough hand grabbed his and suddenly he was being steered to the doors. He saw the red clothes and black ties around the legs and right arm and struggled to get away. He didn't know Indari and didn't trust him. Indari's hold was sure though, and his struggles only earned fearful tears in his eyes.

Legolas looked over his shoulder and saw Sard following like a wraith behind them, and relaxed. Sard's dark blue eyes sought his and he nodded, as if intending to follow them all the way to his ada's chambers.

"Stay, Sard," Thranduil ordered. "You are not his keeper. How many times must I tell you?"

Legolas watched as Sard halted, big brows hiding his eyes now in shadow. Muscles jumped along his jaw and then Legolas was pulled around a corner and his magician was gone.

They walked in silence for a while, which Legolas was glad for. He fought his tears, the aching pain in his chest and tried to think of anything other than when Blaon carried him kicking and screaming to his room, how he had hit and kicked him-

"You are very cold," Indari interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

Legolas swallowed his sob of fear from that day and tried to take his hand out of Indari's again.

"Your father told me that you are fading," Indari said, as if Legolas's struggles went unnoticed. "He explained this is why you are silent and cold."

Legolas tried to stop walking. He was fading? He did not know. All he knew was that the past wouldn't leave his mind alone and he was getting lost in grief. His heart began to race and he lost his war with the tears again. They fell hot and fast. He didn't want to fade.

"I hope to help you with this," Indari said, his voice cool and collected like Sard's but less gentle. "It would be a tragedy for any elf to fade, in my opinion. Especially one so small."

They arrived to Ada's chambers and Indari stopped, finally letting him go to open the door. The man didn't attempt to go inside. Legolas stepped into the room and looked back at him. The man's big lips were clamped together like iron vices.

"Besides," Indari said, "fading sounds like such a cowardly way to go. That is no way for a prince to die when there are so many other, more interesting, ways."

Legolas's tears stopped and he gaped at the human.

Those steel lips twisted into a forced smile again.

"Goodnight. I look forward to our time together tomorrow." The man shut the door in Legolas's face with a thud, leaving him to stare at the white-painted wood in silence. Not that Legolas could hear the quiet night, not as he got lost in his newly stirred thoughts.

And so he stood there until Thranduil arrived an hour later and carried him to bed.

Coward, he kept thinking. No. He did not want to be that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Lament for the Dark Night**

_AN: Thank you for the wonderful response to this story, especially thanks for the wonderful reviews. I am thrilled that these drabbles, that are solely done as a writing exercise, have been met with so much enthusiasm. Your encouragement helps me understand what readers look for in a piece, so I urge all of you to review and let me know what you like or would like to see happen. Wishing you all the very best. Happy reading. –J._

The soldiers at the barracks were in an uproar. Sard stood against the old oak that Legolas had saved and watched the courtyard, breathing in the heavy torch smoke and decaying odor of fall as plants began to die before winter could smother them. The soldiers who couldn't fit outside were crowded in the open hallways and doorways leading to it, all shouting in outrage. Pelorian and his sniper Yoneliel had just broken the news to the warriors that it was true; a human was their favorite elfling's keeper. Sard studied the furious faces surrounding him and evaluated their shouts. They couldn't get too out of control unless they wanted Thranduil to come down on their heads.

"Our prince can't have a human as his keeper." Iros shoved to the front of the group to face Pelorian and Yoneliel. A few quieted to listen to the knight. "He won't be able to teach him elfish history or lessons, and he won't even live long enough to see Legolas grown. Our prince will need a new keeper before long and what then? What will Legolas do if he gets attached to a human and that human dies simply because of old age? How can we save him from that?"

Fierce guilt swarmed through Sard's chest and he turned away, not willing to listen to these soldiers' worries. Iros's words stalked him as he slipped between elleths and elves and back into the crowded hallway. There were too many to get out as quick as he needed and before long he began shoving his way towards the exit. The blood rushing in his ears kept questions or any other comments out of his head and away from his aching heart.

Finally fresh air engulfed his sweating face and it took him a moment before he realized what he frantically searched for. Legolas's window. The window that overlooked the little prince's new quarters which he shared with his ada. A window that was dark, which meant he was asleep and with the king, safe and warm. Though it was far away and a mere speck in the night against the pale granite palace, interwoven between the great Greenwood trees of old, it brought a menial bit of peace to his soul. His breathing began to even again.

"Sard."

Sard didn't turn to look at Pelorian, didn't care that the archer had followed; he just couldn't bring himself to look away from that window. It was a window that he sought often when he was unable to look at the prince himself at night, just so he could be comforted that he was still alive.

"It's my fault, Pel," Sard choked. "They worry about protecting him from grief, but that is where I have already failed."

"No one could have stopped the beast, you fool. How many times must you hear it?"

"I was with him that day!" Sard swung to pin Pelorian with a glare, breathing heavy, his heart racing. "You know as well as I that it was my fault."

"You couldn't have stopped the queen and crown prince from doing what they did to protect him."

"But he didn't have to see it! Legolas shouldn't have had to watch his naneth and brother eaten alive. If I had just moved faster-"

"Enough." Pelorian took a step back, face pale, green eyes bright with anger or tears – Sard couldn't tell which. "It is done. You can't go back and fix it. We must focus on what is happening right now and that is a cult of humans looking to kidnap our prince and take him to the dragon who has wanted him for years, as well as now worry about his new human keeper. I do not trust him. There is something about him that makes me ill to look at, but I can't place why."

Sard ran both hands down his face, wiping the sweat off his skin, before turning to look at Legolas's window again. He felt the same as Pelorian. Though Indari proclaimed he was a merchant guard, Sard could still see a killer in him . . . the type of killer that no merchant guard would become. Indari was more than a soldier, more than any sniper or knight. It was unnerving that he couldn't place what the man was and he wanted nothing more than to take Legolas as far away from him as possible, as soon as possible.

"I leave in five days to find out more about this dragon cult." Sard's voice came out dull, which for him showed his frustration. "I can't watch him like he needs to be watched."

"Then we have to get rid of Indari before you leave," Pelorian said.

O

Indari was holding his hand again the next morning. Legolas didn't like the human touching him with his calloused large palms and fingers. His grip was strong but not painful. Legolas simply had no hope to escape him and run to the barracks to see his friends and pester Sard to apprentice him. He was still determined to become a magician, to be just like Sard, and then this man would have no reason to stay around because he wouldn't need protecting. Then he could have a regular elf to teach him again, rather than watch out for more fiery arrows.

A shiver ran through him at the thought, remembering Rugon and even Blaon.

"Look up, young prince," Indari instructed, his voice calm as ever.

Legolas obeyed, willing to wash away the images of Rugon's dead eyes and an arrow in Blaon's face. He saw that Indari had walked him outside and along the line of human merchants as they did business in the streets with Mirkwood crafters and chefs. Though the rumbling chatter of voices and bargains continued, many humans watched as he and Indari walked. Legolas was on Indari's side facing the people, and the hundreds of eyes that seemed to follow him made him instantly lift his chin and square his shoulders. He would not cower under their scrutiny.

"Isn't he beautiful?" he heard some ask.

"He glitters like he is made of gold and crystal," said another.

Legolas crunched his face up at that and tried to find the source to correct them, that he wasn't but flesh and blood like the rest of the elves. However, there were too many humans staring, pointing or waving at him to tell which had compared him to precious metal and jewels. He scowled at them all, willing them to turn away and go about their business. Pelorian was right. They were filthy, in more ways than one. Some of the probing leers made him uneasy and he wanted nothing more than to leave these mortals far behind.

He tugged on Indari and opened his mouth to tell him he no longer wanted to walk down Common Street, but his keeper turned to face the staring crowd with no regard to him.

"Good morning to you," Indari greeted, his voice calm as it always was but now less hard. "As you have noticed, King Thranduil's famous youngest son is out for a walk today. I am Indari, Prince Legolas's new keeper. Please, go about your day and give the young royal some privacy. He is shy."

Legolas turned his scowl on Indari. He was not shy. Just as he was about to correct the man, familiar and more welcoming hands scooped him away from Indari and blocked him from the crowd. Instead of being swarmed with curious, dirty human faces, he was met with Pelorian's grinning, dimpled one. Legolas wrapped his arms around the archer commander's neck and his legs around his waist.

"We missed you at the barracks this morning, little sprig," Pelorian said to only him, his voice louder than a whisper but still soft enough to not be heard by the gossipy humans. "All the soldiers hope that we haven't lost our breakfast companion just because you got a new keeper."

"I thought it would be best if he would begin doing breakfast with his father instead," Indari said.

Pelorian looked at him as if he had spoken in another language.

"Crown Prince Kasslad was the one who encouraged Legolas to eat with his friends in the morning to give the king time to deal with early morning business." Pelorian raised a chestnut brow, indicating that Indari was lacking a great amount of intelligence. "If you spoke with the crown prince about this, he would have explained why and that we are his friends at the barracks. Do not take us away from him. It would be unwise for many purposes."

Indari didn't look impressed. The bald merchant guard returned the incredulous stare with emotionless eyes the color of dead leaves on the archer.

"Elves live long lives," Indari said. "One would think elves would learn over the years that things tend to change." With those scathing words, the keeper reached for Legolas. Legolas pulled away from Indari's rough hands and buried himself against Pelorian, begging the commander not to let him go.

"Let's get him away from these human eyes before you begin your lessons," Pelorian said, not giving Indari a chance to argue as he began to hurry back to the palace.

Legolas gave Indari a devious grin over the archer's shoulder. The keeper acted like he couldn't be challenged, but he was and it brought Legolas great joy to see it.

Indari didn't seem bothered like Blaon would have been by Legolas's smile. In fact, he wasn't sure if the man paid him any attention. The human's previously impassive gaze was now narrowed and sharp as he studied the flat rooftops lining Common Street. The man subtly scratched at the corner of his right eye, returning his gaze to Pelorian. A cold seed planted itself in Legolas's stomach and he hastily searched the rooftops. The smallest shift of movement drew his attention, or else he knew he would never have seen the person crouched behind one of the roof's raised outer walls dressed in white to blend in with the building's pale stucco. As it was, Legolas struggled to make heads or tails of where the person began and the building ended. Legolas was familiar enough with the kingdom's sniper to recognize one, but he didn't understand why there was one sniping on Common Street.

A sudden glint of a bolt caught in the sun and he realized that it the crossbow was aimed his way . . . or at Pelorian. In that moment the bolt was released and it flew with blurred swiftness.

The horror of having Rugon, Nana and Oroduil die because of him washed through his heart in a mighty wave. He would lose no one else. With nothing more than the desperate need to save his friend, Legolas grabbed a lock of Pelorian's hair and gave it a vicious yank, throwing his body into the pull. Roots snapped with faint pops and the archer gave a shocked shout. Pelorian had no choice but to turn in the direction of the fierce tug.

The archer's surprised cry turned to one of agony, pitching higher as he jerked away from a new, searing pain. Legolas tumbled from his arms, but rolled to his feet to see if the bolt had only scraped his friend.

The ugly, razor edge of the bolt stuck out of Pelorian's left shoulder. It looked very close to his heart. Too close. Legolas swayed at the sight of blood wetting his black uniform and the commander's dry, gray pallor. Pale green eyes found his, terror in them.

"Run, tithen las," Pelorian croaked. "Run."

Legolas's horror transformed into black rage and he turned to the rooftop where the sniper lay in wait, likely having already set another bolt in place to finish Pelorian's life. He didn't know what he was doing, but allowed instinct to wash over him, turning his vision dark. He lifted one hand and pointed a trembling fist in the sniper's direction. Cotton seemed to wrap around his body, his head, blocking out sound, smell, touch. All faded to the one spot on that roof, the red pulse of a heartbeat in the man's neck, his chest, under his arms and inside his thighs. Legolas saw through his camouflage as if he had the eyes of the Valar . . . or a dragon. He turned his fist and the man dropped his crossbow to clutch his chest. Legolas focused on that pulsing heart, the red glow that pinpointed his attention, and he imagined it in his fist, imagined squeezing the soft issue that it was made from, digging fingers and nails into the thin walls and holding it still.

Instead of having the satisfying sensation of it fluttering to an end beneath his grasp, the heart jumped as if experiencing new pain and hot blood flourished from the man's neck. A round, serrated throwing blade nested in his throat, robbing Legolas of defending Pelorian's life. The sniper fell to a heap on the roof and he had no choice but to come back to his senses.

The overwhelming darkness that had encompassed him receded and the white golden sunlight of morning nearly blinded him. He heard the trees and potted plants up and down Common Street flinch as his presence among them returned, and felt them cower under his attention. Legolas blinked and fear gripped his chest, taking his heart in its fist and squeezing it. He had almost killed someone. Would it have been murder?

He sought Pelorian, tears pooling in his eyes, muscles trembling and wanted nothing more than to find comfort in his friend. Instead, Pelorian lay on his side surrounded by palace guards and soldiers.

"He inherited his ada's dark temper," he heard one guard whisper.

"His is even darker . . . touched by the dragon's shadow, it is," said another, though less quiet as if not caring to hide the insult.

Legolas flinched like nature had at his return and he hated that he had any part of his ada's darkness, the darkness that only the royals were given to protect the kingdom. He had seen that spirit fight away Kagnirrok and he had been terrified to silence, scared of his own ada because of it. A sob crept up his throat and he watched as Pelorian was lifted and carried swiftly to the palace.

Was he dead?

A pool of blood was left behind and his sob became a wail at the sight of it.

"Easy, little one." Indari crouched in front of him, but did not attempt to comfort him. Those dirty brown eyes, so lifeless, so careless, bore into his. "Perhaps the dragon wants you for more than your gold and silver looks. That is quite the skill you have, one I'm sure these humans will gossip about more than how pretty you are."

Legolas blinked through his weeping heart's pain and the fear still coursing through his veins to take a closer look at Indari. The human held tucked away a round blade, the same that had killed the sniper. It had been Indari who stopped Legolas from killing him. He didn't know how to feel about that, and his mind was lost at sea with his roiling thoughts to allow him time to evaluate it.

Indari stood and held out a hand to him. Legolas's senses slowly returned and with them came the smell of Pelorian's blood, heavy with iron, the roar of conversation from the frightened humans and even elven merchants, and the concerned stares the military soldiers offered him. Many of the soldiers looked ready to snatch him and get him away from here, inspecting the other rooftops. He heard Sard's name mentioned, but through the chaos he couldn't decipher why.

He would like to go to Sard now. His last close friend. However, he knew Indari wouldn't let him out of his sight. The human was very good at keeping him right where he should be. But that would end. It had to. Fresh, hot tears broke from his eyes as he determined it was time to leave. He had been playing with the idea for a while since Rugon's death, but the old oak's disgust with him and now Pelorian's murder were the last nudge. For his family's sake, for his friends and kingdom, he had to leave. No one was safe with him near, and he would not stand for another to be hurt while defending him.

Resigned to his fate, he grasped Indari's still waiting hand and let the retired merchant guard take him back to the palace.

O

Thranduil didn't believe Indari or the palace guard who had witnessed the incident on Common Street this morning. Yes, he believed the sniper that Indari had killed wore a curling dragon pendant around his neck and was part of this dragon cult. However, he did not believe for one moment that his tithen pen had nearly killed the sniper.

"He has never shown signs of having the dark spirit of Oropher's line," Thranduil laughed. How absurd. He just couldn't imagine Legolas, who was six years old, displaying a dark spirit almost as great as his own. "It had been Oroduil who had the royal curse," he said. "Kasslad has a touch of it, but Chailiel and Legolas were blessed with bright souls, free from this scourge. If Legolas had even a hint of the affliction, it would have been obvious from birth. As you know, dark things are under the command of those who suffer from it which is why we can keep the shadow at bay from these borders and the trees follow us . . . out of fear. It is well known. I and no one else have seen Legolas banishing away little spiders, snakes or anything else that lives in darkness. He is a bright elfling, with such a glittering soul that a dragon covets him."

The palace guard, whose name Thranduil didn't care to remember, shifted and glanced at Indari who ignored him.

"I know what I saw, my king," the elf said, slender shoulders bowed with fright.

Thranduil pinned Indari with his gaze and raised a brow, demanding his son's keeper to finally speak.

"Shadows sprang from every corner of the street to him and the world shuddered," Indari said, impassive in his report. "They crawled on his body as he focused on the sniper, who proceeded to struggle for breath under the prince's focus. If I had not acted quickly, your young son would be asking for your judgment on whether or not he murdered the man or if it was in self defense. He is six years old, as you said. Since he is already fading, I came to the conclusion that this often unanswerable, age-old question would not be good for him."

Thranduil studied Indari, mulling over the man's words. Though he was grateful to the human for sparing his youngest from getting blood on his hands at such a tender age, the realization that Legolas had the royal blemish on his soul made his own temper begin to boil. He attempted to control the dark rage by staring out across the throne room where they had gathered. Midmorning sunlight danced between the shifting gossamer curtains on each side of the long hall, the stained glass windows opened to allow the rare warmth of the fall day. Birds chirped and wind whistled, and he smelled freshly baked bread from the vendors on Common Street and the pungent odor of crushed leaves and drying grass. Still, none of this helped him clam.

"Your council may ask you to close Mirkwood's gates to human trading again after today." Indari broke him from his thoughts. "Some may argue that Prince Legolas did better without the admiration of humans, their gossip that will one day reach the unwelcome ears of a dragon, and has brought the religious cult to steal him away and has now attacked the kingdom twice within the first month after opening the kingdom again. Would you abandon Dale to poverty another time to protect your precious elfling?"

Thranduil's fury mounted and he glared down at the new keeper. He was bold and fearless, which was partly why he had wanted him for the job. However, he was right. The council would press him to isolate the kingdom again to spare elven lives and cease this endless trauma to his son. But if what Indari and this cowering guard said was true about Legolas having the powerful royal plague, he needed to stop pampering him. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to keep his youngest with him at all times, protect him from all evils, but with that power he needed a firm hand instead of a gentle one. In his experience, if ever he and his son clashed in an argument it would not end well. He had seen as much when he and Oroduil would fight, and entire sections of the palace had needed to be rebuilt.

What scared him though . . . he was furious at Legolas and he did not understand why. He had been proud that the elfling didn't have the affliction, that he was perfect, wanted by all, which had inspired such protectiveness in him and others. Now . . . everything was going to change. He blamed himself for giving it to him, and blamed Legolas for having it at all.

"I will visit Pelorian in the Healing Ward and give you an answer to that question after conferring with the council." Thranduil waved for the two to leave him, watching them march back down the stretched hall with contempt for himself. His temper still boiled and he fisted his hands to smother it. He could not be angry when he faced Legolas. He needed to be a good example of how to control a temper fueled by the shadow and give him no reason to fall to its tempting clutches.

O

Legolas was finally alone. Indari had been summoned to report what had happened at the market and he was by himself in his ada's chambers. He shoved the last of his spare clothes into his satchel and then faced the foreboding red door between his old room and his ada's. Walking in there made his stomach clench, even if it was to escape the palace since no one would expect him to use its door to the hallway. All of the palace guards and servants knew he wouldn't go near his old room, not since what happened.

He forced himself to remember Pelorian's ashen face as the blood drained out of him through the bolt in his shoulder, so near his heart. Given the courage to face his fear and save those left to him, he stepped to the door. He hoped Ada, Kasslad and Sard would understand.

He snuck the way he had seen Sard and his magicians sneaked when they practiced their odd skills on the training field, surprising knights, snipers and warriors alike. It had been a fun game to watch, and he hoped by observing he had learned enough to evade everyone in the palace, especially the ever-watchful Indari.

With his satchel strapped to his back, traveling cloak secured at his throat and his softest, quietest boots on, he escaped. The shadows were especially helpful, as if jumping across hallways and beneath torches to give him shelter from prying eyes. He was immensely glad for this, especially since it was a bright day and not even afternoon yet. But he couldn't wait for nightfall. He was never alone.

Like a ghost, he slipped out of palace and into Dove Lane, which was as far away from the ever-crowded Common Street that he could get. It was also miles away from the military barracks where his friends, and likely Sard, would see him sneaking about and grab him. He inched his way through the shadows between homes and courtyards, dodging fountains and wagons. He hushed a braying donkey as he surprised it with his sudden appearance under his stall. The animal calmed under his urgent whispers and he was off again.

Mirkwood's back entrance was less grand than the one that the merchants and all other visitors used. It was a small, narrow path that led to the southern end of the forest. A pale archway hovered over the opened steel and iron gates. They had once been made of diamond, so strong that nothing could have hoped to break into the lower end of Mirkwood's city. However, Kagnirrok took those too and Ada hadn't wanted to display their wealthy so openly again.

Two sentinel warriors stood guard, one in the shadows behind the archway and the other standing alone in the middle of the path looking out into the tangled forest. Legolas knew them both. Enicroh and Konalso. Enicroh stood on the path, his slight shoulders and long, rat tail legs didn't look like much but Legolas had seen him train and knew he didn't have much of a chance. Enicroh was faster than a striking snake. If that wasn't discouraging enough, Konalso was a short elf, made like a barrel and was one of the strongest elves in the kingdom. Rugon used to call him the ox. Legolas had no hope of sneaking past him, either. With Enicroh's speed and Konalso's strength, he would be caught and taken back to the palace faster than he would know what happened.

Gritting his teeth, he looked up. Not many people looked up, so if he climbed the rocks beneath the narrow stone path and onto the wall, he could escape into one of the trees and to the ground. However, it was steep beneath the path and the trees would likely toss him like the old oak had. It wasn't a good idea.

A caw drew his attention to the ground beside him. Standing in the shadows with him was a giant raven . . . a white one. Blaon had taught him this was called albinism. It was rare. Moreover, ravens were usually spies for the growing shadow. He hissed and sent a kick at the bird, offended that it had bothered him.

But the bird only jumped back instead of leaving. The raven stared at him with eerie red eyes and opened its thick beak to crow at him again. Legolas hushed it, glancing back to his warrior friends to see if they noticed. They hadn't and he sent a prayer of thanks to the Valar.

The raven took flight and headed right toward Enicroh, flapping its giant wings and screaming. The warrior ducked out of the way, a shout of surprise erupting from his lips. Both he and Konalso followed it outside of the gates to throw rocks at it.

"Get out of here, you ugly demon!" Konalso shouted.

"Take your talons back to Mordor," Enicroh joined in.

Legolas studied the raven as it flew in circles over their heads, leading them farther and farther away from the gate and pathway out. He was shocked beyond belief that this bird wanted to help him. Normally creatures of the dark hated elves. With a wicked smile, he crept along the shadows and disappeared into the forest away from the bird and his warriors.

He had done it. Everyone was safe now.

O

Legolas didn't know how long he had wandered in the forest, navigating his way over mangled roots and squinting through the increasing darkness. This is the area of forest where Kagnirrok had come, dragging with him the shadow carrying spiders and other fouler things that he had only heard rumors about from the warriors at the barracks. He didn't want to be in this part of the forest, but he had to get as far away from Mirkwood as possible. It wouldn't take them long to discover that he was missing for real this time, rather than just visiting the barracks. He didn't want to know what Ada's throne room would be like when he realized this.

He didn't know how many hours he had journeyed into the depths of Mirkwood, the true area of Mirkwood, the part that had erased the name and grandeur of Greenwood the Great. However, he knew it had been a long time because he was hungry and angry at himself for forgetting food. He didn't know where he was going, and also berated himself for shoddy planning. The sun was beginning to lower and darkness began to creep through the sky.

A caw echoed behind him. He didn't bother looking back. The white raven had followed him ever since, and though he thanked it and tried to send it on its way – it refused to leave him.

Though this unnerved him, he admitted that the raven's presence was starting to be comforting. The creature made him feel less alone, and it only ever seemed to crow at him when the disgruntled trees began to complain about his nearness. The cawing blocked out the trees cruel mutterings, saving Legolas the pain of having to hear how dirty he was.

"Since you haven't left me yet," Legolas told the bird with a backward glance as it walked on the ground behind him, "I may have to name you. Perhaps you aren't like your dark brothers and you don't follow the shadow." He thought for a moment before it came to him. He turned to face the pale bird and crouched to look it better in its strange red eyes. "Ulaire. It means ghost."

Ulaire tilted his head at Legolas and fluttered his wings.

"I believe that the albino likes the name."

Legolas jumped and Ulaire took flight only to land on his head. Legolas was too scared to care and fumbled at his side for his dagger.

"Peace, young one." Indari.

How had his keeper found him? He was far from the inner city. Indari stood relaxed before him though, as if he hadn't raced to catch up with him.

"How did you find me?" Legolas asked.

"You are speaking again?" Indari raised a thin brow and his lips clamped together for a moment. "Perhaps Ulaire had magical powers and broke your silent spell. I shall have the king thank the ugly fowl when we return."

Ulaire crowed at Indari, white feathers ruffled, making the bird look like it was armored. Legolas looked down from inspecting the bird through his eyelashes as it nestled its claws into his hair. He felt that Indari insulted his ada, but he was still too surprised to pinpoint by the human's appearance to figure out where the insult lay.

"The king has dispatched the entire military to find you." Indari crouched in front of him, but kept his distance. In a way Legolas was glad that the human never grabbed for him like Blaon had. "How am I to teach you anything if you keep coming into trouble like this? Our first day together and already you have shown your true colors and ran away. It is good that I was able to find you so quickly, isn't it? Else I fear that you father would have my head."

"How did you find me?" Legolas repeated.

"You truly are talented, little one," Indari said. "I am impressed. It is no big wonder that you have always been able to escape so often in the past to visit your friends and steal honey cakes from the kitchens. However, you will have no such luck with me. I am not like anyone else you've ever known." As he said this, his lifeless eyes sparked to life and a yellow glow overtook them. As soon as the light appeared, it dimmed, returning his eyes to the unimpressive brown.

"What are you?" Legolas was afraid. Ulaire croaked in agreement.

"For now, I am your keeper and I intend to watch after you. Trust is not something you seem to give freely, but I hope to one day earn it, little prince. I may not be what I seem, but I am no threat to you."

Legolas took a step back. He was not what he seemed, that was true enough.

Indari gave him a dark look at the retreat, stood and held out his hand like he had that morning.

"Let us return you to your father before he loses more of his mind. I worry enough for you without his rages."

Also like this morning, Legolas took Indari's hand, resigned to his fate. The moment their palms touched, Ulaire leapt from his head and took off into the trees.

O

Indari had been right. Ada had dispatched the entire military. Though he now sat in his ada's chambers, the still packed satchel on the bed beside him, his ears still burned with embarrassment. On the way back with Indari, they had come across three patrols searching for him. The patrols had shouted and rejoiced when they saw him, tears on many of his friend's faces, before the joy morphed to confusion and hurt. Not a few had asked him why he would run away as they escorted him with Indari back to the palace. He had no words to answer them, and strangely it was Indari who silenced any further interrogations.

However, it had been when he met Sard that he was the most humiliated. His magician met the large group at the back gate where Legolas had escaped through. Instead of rushing to him like the other soldiers had, Sard didn't move, didn't smile, didn't give any indication that he was glad to see him. Sard's dark eyes remained hidden by his heavy brows, his jaw made of steel. As Indari led Legolas passed his closest friend, the one he had left hoping to protect, he felt waves of grief rolling off him. But then Indari had pulled him away and when he looked back, Sard still stood where he was, facing the forest, the collected patrols passing him in silence.

Legolas hadn't seen his father yet. Kasslad had given him a brief hug and told Indari to lock him in his ada's chambers while the king took care of the mess that was made in Legolas's absence. If all of that didn't burn him enough with shame, the fact that he failed in his mission did. He would just have to try again.

Next time he might need help, and he knew just who to call on. No one was more willing to get into trouble that the twins from Rivendell, and though it had been two years since he had seen them, he vividly remembered their friendship.

The chamber door slammed open and Legolas jumped, startled out of his future plans. He looked up as Thranduil stormed into the room, a vision of dark wrath in his swirling red silk robes and glowing white hair. Silver eyes flashed when they landed on his son. Legolas flinched at the aura of darkness in them.

Legolas struggled to open his mouth to apologize, to explain. Before he had the chance, his ada crossed the room in a blur and grabbed his upper right arm. The powerful grip yanked Legolas off the bed and a biting pain slammed through his head from the left. It took him a few moments to realize that his ada had punched him in the eye. He blinked, nauseated, terrified, and gasped as he saw the big fist coming down on him again.

The knuckles smacked the sensitive, soft flesh around his eye a second time. Legolas didn't hear the sound of the fist on his face. He didn't hear anything, in fact. Pain ruled everything, it blurred the world, silenced it. He couldn't breathe.

"Answer me!" Ada shook him so hard that his head whipped back and forth, hurting his neck.

Legolas swallowed hard, licking his bottom lip and the split in it. He couldn't tell if the wet warmth on his face were tears or blood, or both. He squinted to bring his ada into focus, but his left eye was useless. He could see nothing out of it. With his good eye, which was thankfully untouched, he saw that his ada was crying. In fact, he was sobbing.

"Answer me!" Thranduil shouted and shook him again. The hold he had on his arms was painful and Legolas suspected there would be bruises there tomorrow. He wanted Sard. He wanted Nana. "Why did you leave me?"

Legolas worked his tongue to speak, but his lip was too swollen and the pain choked him.

"Why did you leave me?" Thranduil knelt before him, taking his face in his hands.

Legolas gasped and discovered that he was sobbing too, just as hard as his ada. It took him a moment to collect himself enough to respond just so he would stop shaking him.

"I don't want anyone else to die," he cried. "I'm not worth it. I'm not worth it!"

Thranduil pulled Legolas to him, and Legolas flinched. His ada sobbed at that and rocked him back and forth. Legolas pushed at him, wanting to be free, but he was not strong enough.

"You are worth it," Thranduil whispered. "You are my precious ion nin. I love you."

Legolas started screaming. He couldn't help it. He was terrified and his face hurt, and so did his arms and neck. He didn't feel safe anymore with Ada, and that hurt the worst.

"Never again." Thranduil pulled away and turned, grabbing something from inside his robes. It was rope. Thin and elven made, so very strong. "You will not leave me again." He set Legolas on the bed and wiped his tears away before going about tying the rope to the bottom right bedpost and then the other end to Legolas's left ankle. Legolas squirmed but Ada was too strong. He clawed at the sheets to get away, screaming louder.

"Sleep, ion nin," Ada begged. "It will be better in the morning, and I will teach you how to be powerful. You have the dark mark of the royals, so you will be very strong one day."

Legolas wailed wordless cries, knowing no one who would have come running was alive to save him now. The thought of using the terrifying darkness from this morning made him sick, but Ada didn't seem to notice. Ada wasn't well. And for that he wept harder.

"It's okay," Thranduil promised, taking a step back to smile at him through his own tears. "It's going to be just fine."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six: A Complication**

_A/N: Thank you for the wonderful reviews. Though I have the story planned out, I will always happily add any suggestions you might have. It means the world to me to read your comments, both positive and constructive. Looking forward to your feedback. Happy reading._

"It is a late hour to call for me, king." Indari sounded amused. "Or perhaps it is too early."

Thranduil watched the dark sky. It was nearly black, the moon having long since bowed to the approaching dawn even though it was still a good two hours away. A white raven circled the palace, as it had been doing all night. The feathered ghost glided on wings of silence and kept a good distance from the window that Thranduil had yet to leave since putting Legolas to bed . . . or tying him there so he would not escape and run from him again.

His heart pounded so painfully in his chest he wondered if it wasn't lined with thorns. The moment yesterday afternoon when he discovered that his precious son was missing had caused such an ugly, blinding fear that the black fist of terror still weighed down his stomach. He had lost himself to a "dragon rage" so fierce that almost the whole palace was in shambles by nightfall. The servants had scurried from him like rats before flames wherever he had gone. No one, not even the council, bothered him as he turned the kingdom upside-down for Legolas.

Not only had his young son, still just a babe, gone missing so soon after another attack from the cult, but Thranduil kept wondering if his disappearance had anything to do with the darkness on Legolas's soul that he had only learned about that day. It was a powerful thing . . . and something he feared had lured his son away from the safety of his father and into the clutches of darkness, if not the dragon himself.

"King Thranduil?" Indari still sounded amused.

Thranduil took a shaking breath and tore his gaze from the strange white raven as it made another circuit around the palace to instead stare at his trembling hands. The knuckles on his right fist were bruised and torn. He choked on a sob at the too-near memory of hitting Legolas, the child his wife and oldest son died protecting, the son he would do anything for. He hated himself for it. What was worse . . . he hadn't been able to stop his body from harming Legolas. It had taken a surge of his furious temper to break his hold on his son. The moment he backed away, placing space between them, did the force manipulating his body stop. By then his son had a rope around his ankle and there was blood on his face.

"There is sorcery about," Thranduil finally said, struggling to make his voice steady. It came out thin though, as if woven around a single thread.

"Sorcery?" Indari sounded like he held back a laugh. "You do not speak of your black magicians, do you?"

Thranduil didn't have the strength to shout at him for his mockery. Instead, he pointed at his bedroom door where he knew Legolas wasn't sleeping. He had listened to his son's plaintive sobs all night long. Only recently had they stopped, but no deep breathing of sleep had replaced them. If anything, Legolas lay awake, spent from crying and stared at the door wondering when his ada would return.

Indari kept silent as he crossed the room and poked his head into the bedchambers. Thranduil saw out of the corner of his eye how his son's keeper tensed. He wondered if Legolas was sitting up in bed, terrified and staring like a deer at Indari. The look in Legolas's giant silver eyes after hitting him the first time has been forever burned in his mind, the image of trust shattered. Thranduil was tempted to throw himself out the window and rid himself of this disgust. Oh how Ayanu would hate him now.

"What was done to him?" Indari had taken on his monotone voice again, no longer amused.

Thranduil threw him a sideways glance, eyes filled with burning tears, and saw that the door was closed and Indari stood in front of it like he fully intended to keep Legolas from further harm.

"By my own hands," Thranduil whispered and held the offending weapons up for the human to see the bruises and torn flesh.

"It is true then." Indari's face, made of hard angular planes over muscles of steel, was impassive. Yes, the retired merchant guard was less than happy. "The soldiers, even these stoic palace guards, have given utterance to doubt your sanity. They have wondered if their ill-tempered king has finally met his match in an equally ill-tempered snake. Is this just a delayed collapse, or have you been doing this to the kingdom's beloved elfling all along?"

"I love him," Thranduil shouted, and he heard a faint cry of fear in his bedroom. If possible, his heart beat more painfully, bleeding into his chest and he had to grip the windowsill to keep himself from falling to his knees. Though he kept from collapsing, his grasp on the cool stone did not stop the tears from snaking down his cheeks.

"I have never harmed him before," Thranduil said. "I could not stop myself. I tried, oh how I sobbed while I hurt him, but still I could not stop."

Indari studied him for a long moment with his cold eyes of corroded brass.

"This is the sorcery you mentioned," Indari said.

Thranduil sat in the window seat and nodded, golden hair falling to hide his face and his shame.

"Then why call for me?" Indari asked. "I am but your elfling's keeper, not one of your magicians, military commanders or council members. I am not even a part of this family. If anyone should be here listening to your claims of becoming someone's puppet, Crown Prince Kasslad should have been summoned and I should still be asleep in my bed."

"The moment anyone in the kingdom hears what I've done," Thranduil said, "they will riot. They will make Kasslad king and I will be executed. This action is forbidden in the realm. I will pay for it just like any other elf, if not more so because of their love for Legolas."

Indari raised an uncaring brow. Thranduil gritted his molars at his insolence, but knew he deserved much less than that.

"You believe I will help you hide this . . . incident? He cannot open his left eye, not to mention the bruises that cover half of his pretty face. How am I to hide that? Why would I want to?"

"This has something to do with the cult," Thranduil said.

"You have placed your magician commander . . . Sard, I believe his name is, to investigate this cult," Indari reminded. "If you wish to speak about the cult, you should have called for him. All I can tell you is that I don't believe it has anything to do with the cult. Why would they wish you to hurt their beautiful elf when they want nothing more than take him to the dragon that covets him? Kagnirrok will not suffer to have in his possession a beaten, sobbing elf. That would be unproductive."

Thranduil stared at him with his mouth partially open, tears still streaming from his eyes. Thranduil never remembered wearing such an expression, but try as he might – he could not get a hold of himself. Now that he was speaking with someone about the horrors of what happened, what unspeakable thing he had done, he could not understand why he called the human here to confide in him.

Indari stepped away from his post in front of the door, another amused grin playing at his rough lips.

"Somewhere inside your broken heart you know it wasn't the cult," Indari said. "If it was, I'm sure that the kingdom would be closed again and no one would have seen Legolas this way, especially me."

Thranduil felt nauseous. What was wrong with him? Of course he knew this. In his embarrassment he turned away from Indari and watched that strange white raven fly past his window again. It was a ghost in the night, and somehow it brought him more unease. Ravens were typically servants of the shadow. However, such servants would often be drawn to Mirkwood royalty, attracted by the darkness they were marred with to protect the realm from an even greater darkness that always fought to get in.

"Yes, I noticed the raven too," Indari said. "It found Legolas as he was trying to reach the south end of the forest, the poisoned part of the kingdom, and it has followed him since. More proof that he has this scourge, as you call it. Tell me, how did the royal family . . . a family of Valar-blessed elves, creatures of light, come to have this gift of darkness?"

Thranduil stood and turned on the human, suddenly wary.

"The version I heard," Indari said, "is that your father, Oropher, made a deal with a great serpent who called this forest home, that together they would protect each other. The serpent would live in peace, unbothered by the human hunters searching to cut off its head, and in turn the royal family would have a piece of the snake's powers to keep the realm protected from shadows greater than the slimy beast that lived among mud and roots."

Thranduil made certain that his features were calm. It was true, but no one except the royal family knew it. If any elf learned of this alliance, there would be war. Elves did not make treaties with creatures of evil, and if Thranduil had the choice of it – there would have never been an alliance.

"It came in handy when Kagnirrok visited, though," Indari said, as if hearing his thoughts. "Could it be so hard to imagine if this serpent, having spent much time in protected solitude, heard of this cult and wants to do all it can to keep its share of the bargain? A few bruises would help keep reaching hands from taking the youngling, keeping him safe for a little bit longer."

"You work for the snake," Thranduil hissed, revolted. How had this human come across the beast, and how had it fooled him so completely? Unless it had been controlling him all this time. . . .

Indari laughed. It was a deep, rumbling sound, one that did not belong to a human. Thranduil pressed against the window. The raven flew by again, closer this time, its shadow passing through the study over his head as it soared beneath the stars.

"This is what happens when you deal with dragons," Indari said. "Dekriem only wishes to help. Hasn't he so far?"

Indari stepped closer and a spark of fire lit in his eyes, igniting a rich yellow glow in his irises. The flare lasted but a second before dying again. Thranduil stared at him in awe. Though his ada had only told him about Dekriem, he couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't the beast before him. . . But that was impossible. No amount of magic could morph a dragon into the shape of a man.

"I will take Legolas to see Sard, since he misses his friend and wishes to apologize for worrying him yesterday," Indari said. "I'm glad we had this talk. Dekriem only wishes you to understand that your ally is very close, and intends to stay until Kagnirrok is killed. Then he will be gone and life will return to how you like it. In the meantime, make sure Legolas does not try to run away again. How can he be safe from one dragon when he is nowhere near the other that wants him protected?"

Thranduil's anger began to mount as Indari walked back to the door and to Legolas. He didn't know what Indari was, if he was this Dekriem or some other kind of monster, but it wouldn't touch his son again.

Before he could stop the creature, realization hit him.

"Blaon," he breathed. "You forced him to hurt my son, didn't you? He never once hurt Legolas until that day. You've been planning on taking this position to get close to Legolas for some time."

Indari stopped at the door to smile at him, though it didn't touch his dreary brown eyes.

"My only regret is not doing it sooner," Indari said. "If I had been his keeper that day, perhaps his friend Rugon would still be here and he would not be fading."

"How did you get Blaon to hurt him though? He didn't have the scourge like I do."

"He was angry enough for Dekriem to manipulate him," Indari said. "It was an easy mind to bend. Now do not waste time worrying about Blaon. Dekriem wants you to make sure Legolas doesn't leave the kingdom again . . . ever." Indari disappeared into the room and Thranduil slowly lowered himself to sit on the window seat again.

He didn't know what to do. His hands began shaking again.

O

Sunlight kissed the sky to make it blush, casting the night away. Legolas didn't want to hold Indari's hand, but decided that perhaps it was a good thing. He couldn't see out of his left eye at all. As a result, he couldn't quite see where he stepped. The going was slow for that reason, even though Indari led him carefully around frosted dew that had pooled between cobblestones and rocks that could have tripped him. He held the jacket Iros had lent him the night he tried to save the old oak, intending to give it back to him finally, and was glad that Indari was taking him to the barracks. It was much earlier than he would have gone normally, before Indari started making him eat breakfast with Ada, but at least he could see Sard. He was haunted by his friend's dejected face when he was escorted back to the palace last night, and felt guilty for worrying him. He just hoped he wouldn't react like Ada had.

The thought made him shiver and he swallowed thickly to keep the tears from falling. At least Ada hadn't come back to his chambers, and hadn't been in his study when Indari brought him out. Legolas hoped he would never see Ada again, and the thought ripped at his heart. The tears fell anyway.

Torches were still lit from the night, though had burned to their bases. Their struggling flames went to war with the sun as it raised higher, the firelight waning in the red and golden morning. Birds chirped at him and Indari as they passed underneath their branches. Legolas looked up to watch the flitting robins and blue jays, but was struck by seeing one giant, silent raven watching him too. It was Ulaire.

Before he could decide how he felt about the albino having followed him home, Indari pulled him into the barracks.

"My prince!" Iros waved from down the colossal stone hall. He hurried to them, the sword strapped to his belt slapping against his thigh as he jogged.

Legolas managed a smile for him and held his coat out for him to reclaim.

Iros stopped short, however. His dove-gray eyes were ablaze and Legolas cowered from the anger that suddenly enslaved the knight.

As if noticing Legolas's sudden fright, Iros crouched and gently took the heavy black coat from him. The knight gave him a weak smile, his cracked front tooth easy to see.

"Tithen las," Iros whispered and choked. "Who did this to you? You say their name and I will avenge you."

"He will not avenge you alone." The second voice brought Legolas to look up at another warrior, though through his tears he had trouble recognizing him. By the bow strapped to his back, he assumed it was one of Pelorian's archers. Thinking of his friend, the bolt in his shoulder, forced his tears to fall with new ferocity and he ducked his head to hide them.

Legolas couldn't imagine admitting that it had been his ada who hit him. Shame flew through his heart by admitting it to himself. What would his friends think of him then? Would they hate him for forcing his ada to such pain by trying to run away? If only they understood he just wanted to protect them.

"He is here to see Sard," Indari spoke in the silence. "Lead us to him, Iros."

Instead of balking at being ordered around by a human, Iros stood and began to hurry down the hall. Legolas blinked to clear tears from his good eye and took a deep breath to keep any more from materializing. Crying hurt the bruises on his face. He focused on the pain to help steady his aching heart.

As the tears stopped blurring the hallway, he realized that soldiers began to stare at him as they walked into the main hall from adjoining halls or from rooms. Dozens saw him, fell silent and followed as Iros led him and Indari to the kitchens. Legolas was too scared to look back at the crowd shadowing them, too ashamed of the pulsing black marks to lift his face for the world to see.

The aroma of fresh bread, straight from the ovens, melting butter and juicy apples recently sliced made Legolas raise his good eye in search for the one person he wanted to see, to mend any harm he had done to a friendship that meant everything to him. Beside Fesove the cook sat Sard.

The magician slowly rose from his chair, for once his imposing brows not hiding his dark blue eyes. The brightness of the kitchens flushed his face and sent shadows cast from his lashes across his cheeks. He ran to Legolas but stopped short of pulling him into a hug. Legolas was relieved that there was no anger in his friend, only worry and fear. He saw how Sard's arms twitched, as if wanting to hold him. Legolas wished Sard would pick him up and protect him. He wanted Sard as his keeper, the only person he felt safe with now aside from Kasslad.

"What happened, Legolas?" Sard asked, choked.

Legolas felt the pressure of the crowd piling into the kitchen. He looked to Fesove, who would have shouted at them to sit down or get out. Instead, the giant cook stood silent with the rest of them, worry and anger fighting to take over his face.

"I'm sorry," Legolas whispered to Sard.

Furious whispers rippled through the kitchen. Indari let his hand go and Legolas took a wary step closer to his friend.

"Why are you sorry?" Sard reached out as if to touch his swollen eye, but didn't.

"I ran away," Legolas said. "I can't lose any of you. Pelorian . . . I left to protect all of you."

If it was possible, Sard looked even more hurt. The whispers were replaced by a few quiet, mournful cries.

"Our job is to protect you, tithen las," Sard said. "I only blame myself for not protecting you better. You should not feel this burden."

The weight on Legolas's heart lightened a bit and he fell into Sard's arms, desperate for comfort and to feel safe again. Sard wrapped his strong arms around Legolas in response, tightening his hold protectively.

"Now tell me who did this to you." Sard's voice was gentle, a welcome sound in his ears.

"A member from the dragon cult lay in wait in your king's chambers last night," Indari said.

Legolas snapped to look at him, eye wide at the lie.

"He tried to kidnap the young prince. There was a fight, and Legolas came by these hurts because he struggled to get away and his captor attempted to subdue him. Your king saved Legolas, and the human now sits in the dungeons."

Legolas wondered how Indari would support his fib, especially if anyone bothered to see if there was a human in the scarcely-used dungeons.

"Is this true, tithen pen?" Sard whispered in his ear.

Legolas looked up at him but didn't know what to say. Sard's eyes hardened as if he saw the truth in Legolas's beaten face. The magician kissed his forehead and began to rock him back and forth, humming a soft tune. Legolas picked at Sard's black uniform, content for the first time in days.

"Can you apprentice me?" Legolas's question was barely above the sound of a breath.

Sard leaned back and smiled at him, both sad and touched.

"I thought you wanted to be a knight," Sard said.

"I want to be like you."

"What if I want you to be like yourself?" Sard brushed locks of unbraided hair from Legolas's cheek, fingers tender on the bruises. "What if I want you to be a happy elfling with nothing to worry about except his studies and dreams of adventures?"

"I wish I didn't dream about adventures."

Sard closed his eyes as if Legolas's answer had physically hurt him.

"Then yes, my prince," Sard said. "As soon as I get back, you will be my personal apprentice. I will make you a magician, if that is what you wish."

Legolas smiled, though he felt that it was crooked because of the swelling in his eye. Just as he was about to thank his friend, the rest of the elf's words hit him.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I have duties, young one," Sard said. "I won't be gone long."

Before Legolas could protest more, Sard reached into his robes and produced a red vial filled with liquid. He pressed it into Legolas's hands.

"In the meantime," he explained, "take this. As a magician, you must always have it with you. Use it at every meal or whenever you drink. Pour one drop into your glass and if the liquid foams, then you know not to drink it."

"Why?"

"Because then it is poisoned. Every magician uses this because we all have our enemies. Can you do this while I'm gone?"

Legolas nodded and clung to the vial, desperate to prove himself to Sard.

O

Legolas sat in his ada's study later that afternoon. Indari wanted to do his studies there, but had gone to get the books he needed. Though he had just begun learning how to read and write, Indari wanted to push his skills and force him to read easy texts on his grandfather, Oropher. He seemed especially interested in teaching Legolas about how Mirkwood was built.

However, as he sat alone, he couldn't help but think about the events from last night. The terror forced him to stand and pace in front of the empty fireplace. Sard didn't say how long he would be gone, but Legolas couldn't bear the thought of being without him nearby.

He remembered last night's determination to try running away again, but with help from the Rivendell twins. He didn't want to run away now, not with Sard's agreement to apprentice him, but perhaps the twins could be here with him while he waited for Sard to return.

Besides, maybe with them around his ada wouldn't hit him. He was terrified that the next time he saw his ada the anger would return in his eyes and. . . .

Legolas rushed to his ada's desk and grabbed a paper from the stack in the left corner. He stood in the chair and reached for the quill, uncapping the ink and dipping it in.

_Elrohir and Elladan,_

_ It has been too long._

Legolas paused. He studied the words, scrutinizing them to ensure they were spelled correctly. After he decided that they were, he thought about what to write next and how to spell those words. He didn't want to give them the impression that he was too young for them to visit, not when he felt like he needed them as badly as he did.

_I miss you. Will you come back tomorrow?_

_ Legolas_

He nodded. After carefully placing the quill back, and putting the lid over the ink again, he folded the letter up like he saw his ada do many times. After refolding it once or twice, he lit one of the candles and let the wax seal the paper shut. He watched the wax dry and poked at it to make sure it wouldn't stick to anything. Satisfied, he place it on the pile of other letters Ada had already written. One of the servants would be by later to take the stack and send them out with the messengers.

"To Rivendell?" Indari.

Legolas jumped at his voice and looked up at him.

"I just wanted to say hi to my friends," Legolas said.

Indari picked the letter up and studied "Rivendell" scrawled across the front. He smirked at Legolas and took it over to the fireplace.

Where there was once nothing but cold ashes, now there were flames. Legolas leapt off the chair and gaped at the orange and red tongues of fire. It was magic. He thought of Indari's glowing eyes in the forest when his keeper found him and shivered. Indari was definitely no man.

Whatever he was, he tossed Legolas's letter into the fire. Legolas watched the wax melt and the paper brown and begin to curl, devoured slowly by the heat.

"We will have no more mischief from you," Indari said. "Now let us sit and study about your grandfather, shall we?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Glorfindel**

_A/N: Thank you again for the wonderful reviews, follows and favorites. Please review some more and let me know your thoughts! Happy reading._

Cool golden light of an early autumn evening glittered through the thrown-open windows surrounding the royal healing ward. This part of the ward was a large domed hallway at the farthest end of the palace. It stood gazing at the three star-lit falls, each gentle cascade a whisper that echoed through the windows and into the ward. Legolas watched the waterfalls as they swept like silk cloaks over the gray cliffs, the mist rising and transforming into shattered sunlight.

He lay on top of one of the many beds, trying to let the serenity of the ward ease his anxiety. Sard had come to get him just before dinner, ending Indari's lessons for the day. Sard was leaving tomorrow, and he said he wanted to ensure that Legolas wasn't hurt more than what could be seen.

"I don't want to leave without knowing he is being taken care of," Sard had told Indari, excusing the creature. "I will bring him to the dinner," Sard insisted.

Surprisingly, Indari had left without a single word.

Legolas sat alone now. Sard had dropped him off with a kiss to the head and a promise to return shortly. So had the healer.

"Are you the prince?" a small voice asked, coming from the far end of the hall, back by the doors. Her question was almost lost even in the soft rush of water outside.

Before answering, he turned in search of who had spoken. Standing by alone in the wide, sweeping space between the beds was an elleth. She seemed to be his age, same height but a slighter build. Hair the color of cotton clouds rolled over tiny shoulders, wavy throughout and gently curled at the ends. Her deep green dress was partly covered by a white apron, which she fiddled with like she was nervous.

"I am," he said. "Who are you?"

"Lawae is my naneth," the elleth said.

Legolas smiled and felt how crooked it was because of his swollen eye. He liked Lawae, his healer today. She was the head healer for the kingdom and had taken close care of his family since Kagnirrok's raid.

"I'm Mala." The girl started walking briskly down the hall towards him, short legs making quick work of the space between them. Any shyness she had had vanished, though he didn't know how.

She came right up to his bed and grinned, big eyes bright. They were the strangest shade of green that he had ever seen. They were the same hue of pale river grass in an early frost. Her eyes reflected light in such a way that they looked as if there was ice in them. White lashes only added to the illusion, as did her brows. The only other color on her was the small blush in her large cheeks and the red bite to her lips. Overall, she looked frozen, as if she had been born from winter.

He thought she was the prettiest elleth he had ever seen.

"My nana told me to keep you company," Mala said. "She is still making the paste you need for the bruises."

Legolas tensed for a moment, afraid she would ask how he got them just as her naneth had. Instead, Mala crawled onto the bed and faced him. She pulled marbles out of one of her apron pockets and scattered them on the sheets.

"Do you know how to play stones?" she asked, her voice so sweet and chipper that he felt the tension melting right out of him.

He loved to play, but hadn't since Kagnirrok. Kasslad used to be the one who played with him, but no longer, not since he forgot how to be happy.

Legolas wasn't sure how long they played, but for the first time he forgot his hurts. She teased him as he continued to lose one game after the next, but he never minded. Her words were never mean, but rather pulled small laughs from him instead. It felt strange laughing, almost as if he was doing something wrong. How could he laugh when so many things were sad?

"Forgive me for taking so long, my prince," Lawae said as she burst into the hallway, a small bowl in hand and a towel. "I promise not to keep you too much longer."

Legolas looked outside and saw that the golden evening had turned into a cool blue twilight, the waterfall mist having morphed from specks of sunlight to an undulating sheet of silver. Mala scrambled to pick up the marbles, shoving them back into her apron pocket with small clacks. Legolas faced her to thank her for the company, but she had leaned too far forward. He saw her frosty green eyes, bright with mischief, and faintly smelled sugar plums just before she brushed a kiss against his cheek. He barely felt it, too shocked to understand what was happening. Before he had the chance to figure it out, she had slid off the bed and hurried out of the hall, her naneth's scolding shouts chasing her away. He listened to her scampering footfalls and touched his cheek, the bruised one.

Though he didn't know what really happened, other than a strange elleth trying to be his friend, warmth spread through his veins. For the first time in ages, the growing chill in his bones began to thaw.

Ularie quorked somewhere outside, his call grating, hollow and cold.

O

"You really think it was Thranduil?" Pelorian asked.

Sard frowned at him from his seat beside the bed and checked the Healing Ward again. It was mostly empty, aside from a few soldiers who were injured during one of the patrols to the sick part of the forest, but they were still unconscious. Regardless, he leaned on his knees and sent his friend a heavy glare through his bushy black brows.

Pelorian's left arm was in a sling, but he would survive the bolt to the shoulder. Though Sard was glad for this, the pain had done nothing except improve his friend's protectiveness over Legolas.

"I believe it was King Thranduil," Sard whispered. "His temper has grow, and our elfling was beaten the night he tried to run away. There is no human in the dungeons, either. If the king had the cult member killed, it would have been public."

Pelorian's complexion turned florid, color blossoming to his hairline.

"You are leaving at the wrong time," the archer commander growled. "At least take him with you."

"To investigate the cult that wants to steal him for the dragon?" Sard laughed. It was not an amused sound.

"You can't just leave him here with his mad father."

"Hush, or you will wake the dead with that talk," Sard snapped. "No one can know of this. We have no proof yet."

"We all know it, even if no one saw the king do it," Pelorian said. "His dragon rages have only been getting worse, and he is possessive of his children, especially Legolas. The violence of his possessiveness has been a worry of ours for too long."

"If this gets out," Sard warned, "the kingdom will execute Thranduil. Kasslad will be crowned. This will be done regardless if we are right or wrong. Even the hint of suspicion would be enough to topple Thranduil's reign."

"What's so wrong with that?"

"What if the snake returns? Thranduil scared the beast away. Without him, we are vulnerable."

Pelorian scowled and leaned back in his pillows. A wince creased his brow. Sard ignored it.

"I will return quickly, but stay close to Legolas," Sard said. "Keep an eye on Indari, too. He has a hand in this, somehow."

Sard stood and glanced out the window. Small brown spiders scurried across the sill and into the palace. He squinted at them. Usually creatures of the dark avoided coming near elves. . . .

"I don't guarantee that I will stay silent about this, mellon nin," Pelorian whispered.

Sard closed his eyes. He had feared this would be the case, but couldn't leave without expressing his concerns. Someone had to know them, especially if they turned out to be right.

"This smells wicked. Something is very wrong," Pelorian said.

"Then I will hurry back to stop you from saying anything," Sard said.

"You will be too late. As soon as I leave this ward. . . ."

Sard rested his gaze on Pelorian and took a deep draw on the fresh evening breeze. It smelled of wet dirt from the nearby falls.

"Do as you must," Sard said. "Consider what I said about Kagnirrok first. That's all I ask. Your words of speculation will only cause more pain for our elfling, and drop our home into chaos."

"At least Legolas will be safe."

"Will he?"

O

Thranduil watched the sun set outside. The feeling of unease had taken residence in his chest, wringing his lungs and muscles in its shaking hands.

"Ada." Kasslad.

Thranduil refused to turn. Though his son hadn't asked about Legolas's bruises, he suspected that the crown prince still knew. All day, Kasslad had been treading more lightly around him than usual. Though it would normally make Thranduil upset that Kasslad felt the need to be careful around him, as if he would hurt him, he didn't blame him anymore. In fact, he feared that even looking at one of his children would make the dragon rage return.

"Yes?" he asked.

"A large party of Lothlorien elves has arrived." Kasslad's voice was a hollow tune. "Lord Glorfindel from Rivendell is among them. He says he was in the Golden Wood visiting Arwen when the news of Mirkwood's open gates arrived. He is asking after Legolas."

Of course he was. Thranduil remembered when the legendary Glorfindel had last visited his kingdom, though in the presence of Lord Elrond and his twin sons, both of whom were still in shock from losing their mother. He had since heard that the twins were less jovial than they were then, their sadness being eaten by a furious anger.

The fact that Glorfindel was not with them told Thranduil how far gone the twins had become. Glorfindel had not traveled alone in millennia, not since finding home and family in Rivendell and Elrond's halls.

During his last visit, Glorfindel had scarce let go of Legolas. He had held the then tiny one-year-old in his arms for most of his stay.

"He is so small," Glorfindel had told both him and Ayanu. "Look how innocent he is." Thranduil had known then that the Balrog-slayer would protect Legolas as much as possible, and had been honored.

Now, it was a complication.

His anxiety twisted his insides even more fiercely.

"Have Glorfindel meet me here," Thranduil said. "I will speak with him before greeting the group from Lothlorien."

Kasslad left the study without a word, which broke Thranduil's heart. However, he forced himself to focus on what to tell the warrior about his son's bruises. There would be no hiding them, and it would be wise to explain things to Glorfindel before he saw them.

O

When Glorfindel arrived, Thranduil could see his confusion. The golden-haired warrior, almost as tall as the knight commander Naspen, and nearly as wide as Rugon had been, was an imposing figure to face . . . even for the Elvenking. At least, he was when knowing that his temper would soon be seen. Thranduil braced his hands before himself and inclined his head to Elrond's dearest friend.

"Where is the tithen prince?" It was obvious that Glorfindel was trying to ease the tension in the study.

Thranduil didn't give him an immediate answer. Instead, he held himself still and listened to an owl hoot outside. The open window at his back had grown dark, the wind growing stronger.

"Legolas is in the healing ward," he finally said.

Glorfindel's brow crooked.

Before he could ask, Thranduil raised his chin and felt his eyes go hard.

"I hit him," he said. "Beat him bloody and to sobs."

For a moment, Glorfindel looked stunned. Blue eyes went as wide as oak leaves and his mouth pressed thin and white. Thranduil tracked the elf's anger through the deep red heat lifting through his neckline and to his powerful, furious jaw. The veins in his eyes suddenly seemed more apparent as well.

Before he could cross the room and beat him bloody, Thranduil finished his tale. He described Indari, and he even confessed about his ada's alliance with Dekriem. If anyone could help him now, it would be the Balrog-slayer.

It was a gamble, but he really didn't have much choice. He would not allow Indari, whatever he was, control him.

By the end of his tale, Glorfindel had his sword hand on the pommel of Light Bringer, which was still strapped to his waist. In fact, he still wore his traveling clothes.

"I'm going to take the elfling," Glorfindel bit out between his teeth.

Thranduil felt himself grow angry at that. His hands fisted.

"Lord Elrond will raise the prince and once Elladan and Elrohir learn of what you've done, I will not stop them when they ride after you. They will cut you ribbons, king or no."

"It was not me who harmed my son," Thranduil shouted.

Glorfindel did not cower like all other elves would have. Instead, he rushed close to him, face to face, a billow of righteous rage.

"You have venom in your blood, is that what you're saying?" Glorfindel growled. "A piece of a dragon in you, made from a deal Oropher made with a lesser serpent? Your own people will hang you for it. You are tainted. It is driving you to madness. I will not let you give this to Legolas, or to Kasslad."

"You will kill Mirkwood's king, and kidnap its princes?" Thranduil laughed and it was cruel. "Armies will cut you down."

Glorfindel gripped the front of Thranduil's robes and shoved him into the desk behind him, fists trembling in fear or anger – Thranduil didn't know.

For a moment, Glorfindel said nothing.

"There is only one way to prove your madness." He released Thranduil and swept to the door.

Thranduil's mouth had gone dry.

Glorfindel was about to pick a fight with a dragon, or whatever creature a dragon sent to do its bidding.

O

The library was empty. Legolas didn't want to be here. Indari had intercepted him and Sard on their way to dinner, demanding that he had orders from the king to take the prince to his study first. Thranduil, apparently, had wanted to show up at the dinner with him and Kasslad.

Legolas shivered in fear. He hadn't seen his ada since. . . .

But this wasn't the study, either.

He waited by the door as Indari searched for books he would need for tomorrow's lessons, pulling at his fingers as he waited, trying to ignore his nervousness at the same time. He didn't want to see his ada.

The quick patter of running feet drew his attention to the door at his back. He turned to see it flung open. Though he wasn't sure who it would be, he still did not expect to see Mala. Her big cheeks were ruby from hurrying, white hair flung about her like a halo, frosted green eyes wide with panic. There was a mug between her pale hands, brown tea sloshing over the rims onto her fingers. It was half empty.

For a moment he feared Kagnirrok was back. He tensed as he listened for the rumble of the snake's voice. Instead, there was only Mala's shallow breathing.

"My naneth sent me to give this to your ada," she whispered, big eyes frantically searching around them. She stepped closer until he smelled sugar plums again and his heart quickened. "I went but heard him talking about the dragon. Legolas, he said your keeper is the beast, that he is a man only through some kind of sorcery. You have to get away from him."

Legolas stared blankly at her, but not for long. Remembering how Indari's eyes had lit to yellow flame in the forest, and Mala's fear now, was all he needed to believe her. He nodded and took her by the arm to turn her out of the library. They would run to the dining hall where Sard waited for him. Sard would know what to do. They just had to get to him before Indari discovered that anyone knew what he was.

"Who is your friend, little prince?" Indari.

Mala gasped and dropped the mug. Legolas watched as the blue ceramic hit the white marble and shattered with a fragile, short-lived scream. Tea poured across the colorless stone as if someone had emptied their bowels. Legolas shoved Mala through the door and away from Kagnirrok, the gory memory of his nana and brother being eaten alive flashing over his eyes. No one else. Not again.

Mala stumbled into a stranger who stepped into the library entrance. Legolas's heart sped, desperately hopeful that it was Sard. Instead, it was an elf the size of Naspen and as wide as Rugon caught the pretty elleth. Legolas stared up into the strange face, framed by long hair the same deep gold that his nana's had been. Intense blue eyes caught his and his sloping brow creased in worry.

The elf gently steadied Mala and shifted her so she was out of his way. He strode straight to Legolas and knelt. A mix of emotions swilled through his misty eyes and his hands hovered over Legolas's shoulders as if too afraid to touch him. Legolas knew what he saw, the bruises, swollen eye and growing fear of his keeper who stood too near. What any of this meant to the giant stranger, he didn't know.

"You don't remember me," the elf observed in a broken whisper.

"Lord Glorfindel," Indari greeted.

Legolas didn't recognize the name.

Glorfindel stood and turned on the keeper in a swirl of silk golden and pale blue robes, long hair whirling like a cloud. His great sword was in his hands and he stood in front of Legolas and Mala as if about to go to war in their defense. Before Legolas could understand why, the elf was on Indari faster than his eyes could follow. The white-silver blade snickered through the thick air, swift as blowing rain and as fierce as Kagnirrok's shuddering roar.

Legolas gaped as Glorfindel attacked Indari, quicker than any of the soldiers in his ada's barracks, angrier than Rugon or Pelorian had ever been. Watching him was like watching wind skip gracefully over a river, but still that bright weapon never touched the retired merchant guard. Indari slithered away from before each of Glorfindel's cuts, hands resting behind his back as he stepped around the graceful elf. There was a smile on his clamped lips, dull brown eyes creased with amusement instead of the shock of being assaulted.

Warm fingers entwined with his and drew him out of the library. He grasped the door before Mala could pull him away, too entranced to leave without understand why Glorfindel would go after his keeper. Could the whole kingdom already know that Indari was the snake?

"You are ugly and weak," Glorfindel shouted. "Show me what you are!"

Then the blade met its mark. Its razor edge sliced through the red sleeve on Indari's right arm, just below the shoulder. Legolas watched the tanned skin that was revealed as the fabric draped away from the wound, but there was no blood. The deep laceration in his flesh was as dry as if the skin were meant to open there, like the space between his fingers or toes.

Indari studied the wound. When he raised his eyes, there was fire in them again. His iron-hard lips peeled back to reveal rows and rows of blood-stained fangs.

Mala screamed, her fear making Legolas put himself in front of her and grip her hand harder. She clung to his arm as they watched the façade of a man melt away. His skin darkened, hardened, and his silk robes ripped. Legolas couldn't look away from his face, mesmerized as his mouth and nose merged and lengthened. The eyes of fire turned red and rose up along his head, ridges forming across the center of his bald scalp.

A deep hiss filled the library, bouncing between shelves as the beast lifted its thickly muscled neck to stare down at them.

It wasn't Kagnirrok.

This snake was much smaller, its body thin as if made of one complete slab of muscle. Willowy fore- and hind legs bowed as it lowered its belly onto the marble, its impressive tail twitching from side to side like an irritated feline. Its tail was three times as long as its body. Though it couldn't be more than ten feet tall, it was more than twenty feet long. Legolas could see that now as it unraveled itself.

Two brown wings stretched from between its undulating shoulder blades, reaching towards the vaulted ceiling and touching each end of the library. A deep drumming thrummed his bones and Legolas forced Mala to take a step back as he tried to retreat.

This beast was not as impressive as Kagnirrok, but it was still a dragon.

It was still terrifying.

Mala pulled at him again and broke Legolas from his horror. He fled with her, hands still grasping each other. He heard heavier footfalls and glanced over a shoulder in time to see Glorfindel race after them, sword still in hand and eyes bigger than before.

The serpent burst through the wide library doors, one wing making crumbs of the marble in its rush. An elleth screamed and he was back to that day Kagnirrok destroyed Greenwood the Great, all because of diamonds and him.

He smelled sulfur, smoke, fear. His heart rammed against his ribs and he screamed with the rest of them. The beast filled the hallway behind them, pale brown and glistening in the torchlight. Red eyes followed him.

Glorfindel must have seen how the beast watched him because he stopped, chest heaving. Legolas looked back and met his gaze, which turned to steel as he turned to face the beast.

"Dekriem," Glorfindel shouted.

The beast stopped its slithering to arch its thick neck and switch its heated, heavy gaze to the elf. Glorfindel lifted his sword as if he had any hope to fight the great snake.

The dragon lowered its head in one swift motion, crashing into Glorfindel and throwing him into the wall. Legolas thought he heard a sickening crunch as his head met marble. The elf slumped in a pile of silk and blond hair, his sword clattering like broken ice across the floor.

Glorfindel didn't get back up.

He didn't move at all.

Mala dragged Legolas around a corner. There were tears in her eyes, pale as melting snow. She pulled him to move faster, headed straight for the dining hall as if she knew Sard was there and would save them, though Legolas no longer knew how unless the black magician had a trick up his sleeve that he had never heard about. As much as he dreaded it, he knew that his ada was the only hope they had.

Legolas continued to risk looking over his shoulder for this Dekriem, as the elf had named him. However, the snake was never behind them. He feared where it could have gone, if it was trying to get ahead of them, because he knew from before that there was no way to outrun a dragon. Though Dekriem wasn't as large or powerful as Kagnirrok, it was still evil and still a dragon.

But then Mala shoved through some servants into the dining hall, dragging him behind her. The room was full. Sard was by the doors. Sharp concern made the magician straighten in an instant when he saw them. Legolas didn't stop to tell him what chased them, but instead searched for his ada.

Thranduil stood in all his majesty at the head of the table. Legolas heard the spreading silence at his and Mala's abrupt and frantic entrance. Mala froze at the attention, tears still spilling from her frosty eyes. Legolas pulled her into a run for his ada then, hope igniting in his heart that his ada would make this lesser serpent flee just as he had made Kagnirrok flee.

Thranduil must have seen their fear like Sard had, because he left his spot at the table to rush towards them. He knelt before Legolas, catching him.

"Dragon," Legolas breathed.

Though he spoke just above a whisper, the whole room gasped and screamed. Elves raced through doors opposite from where Legolas and Mala had entered.

He felt Sard's commanding, comforting presence suddenly appear behind him. Other soldiers melted seemingly from the walls, weapons in hand as the guests rushed to escape.

His ada didn't seem surprised, but rather disgusted. He turned his head to the side as if to spit, and drew Legolas into his arms.

"We need to fight this beast before it comes for him." Kasslad had a sword in hand like the other soldiers, so like Oroduil in that instant that it was painful to look at him.

"Of what beast do you speak?"

Mala forgot her fear and clutched at the king and Legolas met her terrified gaze over his ada's sheltering arms. Thranduil stood, lifting him and turning his body as if to shield him from the dragon who was now just a man once more.

Indari strode forward, hands behind his back as if he sauntered through a garden, bald scalp bright under the torchlight, dull brown eyes wrinkled with false concern.

"My son says there is a dragon in these halls," Thranduil said. "Is this true?"

"I fear that he was reading a book on Kagnirrok before this," Indari lied, so easily. "It is my fault. I took him to the library to collect texts he would need to study tomorrow. While he waited for me, he found a book on the beast and must have dozed off. His nightmares are terrible things, are they not?"

Legolas tore his gaze from the man who was not a man and saw a large group of silver elves he had never seen before. They stared at him in horror, confused but also hadn't run like the Mirkwood elves had. He realized then that they were visitors, though couldn't be from Rivendell. They were too fair.

Shouts filled the halls behind Indari. Tension returned as swift as an ocean wave.

"Lord Glorfindel!" someone screamed. "Where is Lawae? He needs her."

The silver elves hesitated, but then all rushed toward the door. They kept well away from Indari. Legolas watched them go, horrified that perhaps the elf was already dead.

"Aren't we going to eat?" Indari asked, uncaring about the panic trailing behind him. "Where have the guests gone?"

O

Legolas stood in his ada's study, hungry, cold and scared. He hadn't eaten, and the dinner didn't last long. Hardly anyone ate, except for Indari. Legolas had watched the snake in its human flesh suit and saw his serpentine, elegant movements for what they were now. He wondered how he could disguise himself so well.

Mala had been taken away by servants to her mother in the healing ward. Legolas and her stared at each other as she was led out of the dining hall, and he wished that someone had asked for her story instead of writing off his fear as a dream. It was as if no one noticed that she was just as scared as him. Of course, she wasn't royalty. She wasn't anything to them and he hated that.

"You should not have sent the Balrog-slayer to force the matter," Indari's monotone voice sounded outside the study. Legolas froze. "Do you not understand that I am helping? It is as your father wanted."

"He would not want this." Thranduil was angry. Legolas's palms began to sweat. He listened as they came closer to the door.

"You will be rid of me when Kagnirrok is dead and the kingdom safe again." The door opened. "Until then, it seems I must teach you not to get in my way again."

Legolas looked up as his keeper entered, graceful and threatening as ever. Legolas backed away from him, but Indari never even looked at him.

"Thranduil," Indari called.

"You will not do this!" Thranduil was close to one of his dragon rages. Legolas could hear it in his voice, and began to tremble. "He is my son!"

Indari lifted one dark brow and his ada entered the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle a painting of the sea next to it. Legolas took another scared step back. Thranduil's cold blue eyes landed on his and suddenly he was there again, just like the night before last when he had tried to run away.

Legolas screamed as the fist fell against his face. The hit was hard enough to split skin. Legolas felt the numbness through his already bruised eye, and a liquid of heat stream down his cheek to his chin. He stumbled into the desk drawers, wooden handles pushing against his back. He tried to force his way past them to hide under the desk, but his ada grabbed hold of his hair and lifted him into the air. Suddenly he was flying, having been tossed across the room.

The wall cracked against his head.

The darkness receded and he blinked blearily up at his ada as he strode over to him, tears running down his face. Indari watched impassively, hands still behind his back as if he were a perfect human gentleman from the stories his nana liked.

It was then that Legolas understood. Indari was controlling Ada.

"They will notice the elleth who saw you," Thranduil said, stopping short in front of Legolas as if by will alone. His whole body shook from the effort. "They will notice that she is missing."

"I wouldn't have had to eat her if you hadn't told Glorfindel anything," Indari said. "Not even the Balrog-slayer can help you, but how many times must I remind you that I am not Kagnirrok? I am no enemy of yours."

Ada's boot flashed out and Legolas got the wind knocked out of him. He saw dancing dark spots. Ada kicked him in the chest again and something broke, shoving another scream from his throat.

"I am helping you save your son," Indari said.

O

Sard left the healing ward, more troubled now than before. He didn't want to leave on the morrow to investigate the cult when the healer's daughter, Mala, told him that the prince's keeper was a dragon, that she had seen the snake shed its human costume before it flung the Balrog-slayer into a wall. Lord Glorfindel was in a deep sleep, one that Lawae told his Lothlorien companions that he may never wake from. She had seen it before, when elves were hit too hard on the head. She called it a "coma."

Pelorian had listened to Mala's tale, as well. The archer commander was in a rage and Sard knew that his friend would not stay the night in his bed. He would reach the barracks and spread word that a dragon was taking care of their elfling prince and that the king was responsible for beating him bloody.

There was no stopping it.

No matter how much he tried to reason with Pelorian, to first discover why Thranduil would hire a dragon to protect his precious son before letting the whole kingdom know the little that they did, it was to no avail. Pelorian was blind in his fury.

Sard knew that if he left, by the time he returned a mere two weeks later he would find his home in shambles. If the military rose in riot against the king, there was no telling where the dragon would fit into the fight. The only one who could scare the beast away was the king, and if they got rid of him. . .

He marched towards Thranduil's study, knowing that Legolas would likely be asleep by now and the king would be awake for some time still as he read and signed documents submitted to him from the council.

As he neared, he heard someone pounding on the study door. Concern twisted into fear and he ran around the corner. Kasslad and a guard were trying to force their way into the study, but the door was barred.

"Crown prince!" Sard shouted.

Kasslad abandoned his hysterical pounding to turn to him, golden eyes stretched wide in horror and fear.

"Legolas," he nearly cried to the magician. "Get to Legolas now!"

Then Sard heard it. The elfling screamed. It broke his heart immediately, sending it in pieces throughout his chest. The shriek was filled with agony and terror.

Sard turned to the prince's old bedroom door. He tried the handle, already knowing it would be locked. Filled with the same frantic rage that grasped the crown prince and the guard, who slammed his spear repeatedly into the study door, Sard forced himself to measure his breathing and clear his head. He was a magician. He didn't need to force a door open.

He reached into his tunic and withdrew two thin steel tools. He crouched before the lock and thrust them inside, closing his eyes to feel through the rods as they manipulated the mechanisms within. After mere seconds, a click reached his ears and he opened the door.

Sard crossed Legolas's bedroom in three strides, putting his shoulder to the red door that separated him from his elfling. It opened without protest.

The scene inside took his breath away. Thranduil stood over the tiny bundle that was his six-year-old son kicking away as if Legolas were nothing more than a mound of dirt. The elfling's eyes were shut and Sard could tell that he had fallen unconscious. Blood sagged down one side of his already bruised face from a wound to his temple, matting his bright hair a sickening crimson.

Sard rushed forward, ready to kill the king himself, when Indari slid forward to block his path.

"Get out of my way." Sard reached forward to squeeze a pressure point on Indari's neck that would have made him fall unconscious to the floor, but the human impostor was faster.

"You should leave tonight to investigate Kagnirrok's cult." Indari grasped Sard's reaching hand. "Look in Dale's sewers for your answers. Legolas is safe with me."

"The kingdom is about to riot." Sard let a blade up his sleeve drop into his fingers. "I won't let that happen because of you, snake."

Indari's eyes lit with yellow flame.

"So long as I am obeyed, none will rise against the king." Indari was faster than him again, reaching his other hand out to Sard's neck. The quick squeeze sent him into oblivion.

O

Legolas watched Glorfindel as he slept on the other side of the royal healing ward. He was himself was lounged in a bed positioned to see the three star-lit falls, but he was in too much pain to care how beautiful they were. He stared at the Balrog-slayer and his accompanying crowd of worried Lothlorien elves. Lothlorien. He thought of his sister for the first time in ages, but had already forgotten her face. She was there. He wondered if he could join her, and if she didn't blame him too much for losing their mother and oldest brother.

Kasslad sat next to him with his head in his hands. A guard stood behind him with a strained expression; as if he wanted to run off somewhere to either kill someone or shout information that was eating him up inside.

"It wasn't ada," Legolas croaked to Kasslad. His brother hadn't left his side since he woke in the healing ward, which had been three days ago. Still, Lawae had told him he had been asleep for an entire week. Sard was already gone.

Kasslad didn't move.

Legolas studied his white hair that tumbled over his hands and broad, powerful shoulders. Though his brother had been with him without once leaving, he still hadn't said a word. Kasslad had instead washed him when he needed washing, fed him when he refused to eat, and brushed and braided his hair in the mornings and brushed and unbraided his hair in the evenings. Other than his tender care, not a sound passed his lips.

"Kass," Legolas urged, his own voice weak from disuse. "Please. Don't be mad at him. It is Indari, the dragon. Glorfindel named him Dekriem."

Kasslad lifted his head and wiped his golden eyes. Tears stuck to his long, strong fingers. Those bright yellow eyes found his, so broken and confused that Legolas didn't know what to say. How could he comfort him? He was in too much pain to touch his arm or hug him. The best he could do was smile.

"I should have taken better care of you after they died," Kasslad finally said, his voice just as rusty as Legolas's. "I should have watched after you. We used to be so close and I abandoned you when they died. I blamed you and you didn't even know why I put stopped being there for you."

"Kass," Legolas began, not wanting to hear this diatribe of pity. He blamed Kasslad for nothing. All he wanted was his brother back, and he had a feeling that he was on his way.

"Don't try to make me feel better about this," Kasslad begged. "I am the older brother, I am meant to protect and comfort you. This should never have happened." His hand brushed ever so gently over the expansive bruise covering the left side of Legolas's face, where his eye was still swollen shut.

Legolas caught his hand and smiled his very best.

"You need to help Ada," Legolas said. "Indari is controlling him. We need to find a way to break him free."

Kasslad's hand dropped and he shook his head.

"Dekriem, as cruel and terrible as he is, is fulfilling a debt to this family," Kasslad muttered. "Without him, Kagnirrok would have taken you when he came before. Ada's dragon rages are aptly named. Dekriem shares his powers and he knows that Kagnirrok is stirring again, though is most concerned with this cult. He just needed to make Ada learn to work with him, obey him when needed, and that is it. It was an ugly, vicious lesson and I hate them both for it. I will not go near either of them. I will stay with you. I will protect you from them both and make sure that Ada will not repeat his mistakes. I cannot bear to see you like this again."

Legolas glanced at the guard who hovered. The elf's expression had softened, but his shoulders were still stiff.

Movement near the end of the hall drew his attention. When he turned, he saw Mala watching him. It was the first time he had seen her since Ada had her escorted away after Indari, or Dekriem, had attacked Glorfindel. She gave him a tiny smile and wave. He felt a little warmer in return.

O

He wasn't allowed out of the healing ward for another two days. Kasslad walked with him toward the dining hall for the feast they were meant to have almost a week and a half ago to celebrate the visit from the Lothlorien elves. Legolas walked stiffly. He still had three broken ribs, a hairline fracture in his skull and the bruise on the left side of his face had started turning ugly green and purple shades. The cut under his eye was swollen, so he still couldn't open it.

Kasslad held his hand and walked at a snail's pace with him, four guards trailing behind. All of the guards were soldiers from the barracks rather than the usual palace guards that he didn't know very well. One of the guards was Iros, and he refused to look at Legolas. Legolas didn't understand why and didn't like how the soldiers moved as if they had broken ribs too, all grime and tense as if ready for battle.

As they inched closer towards the door to the dining hall, Legolas spotted Indari waiting for them. He hadn't seen the creature since falling unconscious in Ada's study as he watched him be thrown and beaten. He stopped walking when he saw the dragon-man.

"I know," Kasslad mumbled to him and squeezed his hand. "We will walk right past him. Together."

Legolas nodded and put his trust in Kasslad that it would be okay. Iros picked up his pace until he marched on Legolas's other side. Indari smiled at Legolas and led them into the hall, but did nothing else. Legolas heaved a wincing, painful sigh of relief.

They continued their arduous journey to the head of the table where Ada already sat. Kasslad took the seat to his right and helped Legolas into the seat next to him. Legolas noticed that Kasslad didn't even look at their ada.

"Hi Ada," Legolas called.

Thranduil turned sad, haunted eyes on him. It looked as though he hadn't slept since he beat him, and Legolas wondered where had been since he had never visited him in the healing ward.

"Tithen pen," Thranduil whispered and tears gathered in his eyes. He smiled anyway, something shaky and uncertain. "I am glad to see you." He lifted a hand as if he could reach across the space between them and stoke his cheek, but lowered it on the table by his wineglass and tears fell from his eyes instead.

Legolas slid from his chair. Kasslad's hands were quick to help and steady him, muttering protests the whole time. Legolas ignored them and forced himself around his brother's chair to face his father. Thranduil's head was bowed, white-gold hair hiding his face.

Legolas glanced around the room and saw that the Lothlorien elves were quiet, with forlorn faces. He was sure their thoughts were on Glorfindel, who still slept.

The rest in the hall spoke quietly as food was brought out. Many glanced his way with looks of pity. Others glared openly at the king.

Angered by this, Legolas reached his arms to his ada. Thranduil hesitated, but then obeyed his silent request and picked him up. Thranduil was careful, as if Legolas was made of glass, had been broken and recently glued back together. Legolas whimpered as he was moved and slowly settled on his ada's knee. When the dizziness passed, he smiled at his ada and thumbed his tears away.

A sniff made him look at Kasslad, and he saw that he was crying too.

"I am not dead," Legolas said firmly to them both. "We will be fine. We are together."

A choked sob burst from Thranduil's lips and he laughed, though it still sounded sad. He then pressed a loving kiss to Legolas's cracked head, careful of the bandaged wound.

Kasslad wiped at his tears and asked Ada something about kingdom business, but now that the ice had begun to thaw Legolas turned his faltering attention elsewhere. One of the soldiers poured wine into Ada's goblet.

Sometimes Thranduil allowed him a sip, and when he asked his ada nodded.

"Just one tiny sip, though," he said, a hand brushing the bandage wrapped around his head.

Legolas reached into his silver tunic and pulled out the red vial that Sard had given him. A magician used it whenever he ate and drank. He dutifully poured two drops into the wine and waited. No foam.

He tucked the vial back into his robes and then picked the crystal glass up with both hands, careful not to spill. He took the tiny sip he was permitted and scrunched his nose at its bitterness.

"No tithen pen!" Iros screamed.

Legolas jumped at the shout and the goblet slipped from his hold, smashing into the floor. He caught Iros's fearful face and looked down at the scattered crystal and wine.

The liquid was foaming.

Thranduil was shouting, his dragon fury rising, but Legolas just watched that pink and white foam. Bubbles rose and popped and he just kept thinking that it had been meant for his ada. Iros had tried to kill the king.

Numbness spread through his face, arms and legs. All he knew was his ada's strong arms as he fell back against his chest. When he managed to look up, Indari was in front of him with fire in his eyes again. Instead of the impassive, amused or angry expressions Legolas was used to seeing, the dragon looked afraid.

He didn't know dragons could ever be afraid.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: No Longer Safe**

"Look at him." The voice sounded far away. It was distorted, as if the speaker was underwater. "He looks dead. How are we going to get him to Ada like this? You know with these wounds it is important not to move them."

Legolas drifted. Agony grabbed hold of his insides and squeezed. The pain was so unbearable he lost track of the world again.

Time no longer mattered. He floated. It was impossible to say how long he had been separated from the world and his family, but it felt like a long time. Once in a while he heard someone crying, who might have been Ada or Kasslad, or both. Sometimes he heard people speaking angrily, and once it even sounded like Pelorian but that was absurd. Pelorian was shot with a bolt and Legolas didn't know if he was alive or not, but he knew better than to hope.

"We should have taken him with us." That voice was familiar, but Legolas couldn't place it. It was too difficult to track what was happening around him when his body was too weak to move, even his eyelids. "After that dragon was scared away, we should have brought him to Rivendell. We are his friends, Elrohir. I know he is young, but Ada said the three of us would become like brothers one day. What kind of brother am I to turn my back on him? Look what has happened to him with us gone!"

"Hush, Elladan," came an identical voice. "He won't blame us. Our mother had sailed and we were lost. Glorfindel was right when he left us. Either we will die in our rage, or something will happen horrible enough to wake us."

"This is too horrible, Elrohir," Elladan moaned, tears in his voice. "Glorfindel might die and if what we heard about Mirkwood is true than Legolas is in more danger than before. He has enemies from every side, and even his own friends tried to kill him!"

"Tried to kill his father who beat him bloody," Elrohir snapped. "The soldiers were trying to save Legolas and crown Kasslad king. I don't blame them for trying. It's been a month since he was beaten last and look at him. He is healing too slowly. They say he's fading."

"We came to save Glorfindel. . . ." Elladan said.

"But we can't bring him with us," Elrohir finished, "so we can take Legolas. You know Glorfindel would have done the same."

Legolas wanted to laugh. It was a nice dream to think his trouble-making friends had come to help him, had called him a brother even. He idolized them, especially after they visited as they hunted a pack of orcs that had traveled through the forest. They were fierce and legendary in his eyes, so removed from all else but what they wanted. In this dream of his though, it was nice to believe they wanted to protect him. He wished he had known that this Glorfindel was a friend of theirs. Though he didn't know what he could have done in the brief minutes he had had with the Balrog-slayer, it would have been nice to know anyway. But then, it was just a dream.

He continued to float in and out of consciousness. Darkness lolled around him like a velvet blanket and he welcomed its numb embrace. It made him forget the pain, the dragons and that his friends at the barracks had tried to kill his ada. He was glad he had sipped the wine first. He was glad it was him and not Thranduil. Losing him would have been too much. His friends would have killed them both if that had happened.

A shiver coursed through him and he turned against the nearest warmth, which felt like Sard. A muscled chest met his face and the world swayed as if he rode a horse that was moving quickly.

"Should we be afraid of the military coming after us?" Elladan's voice again. Legolas wished he was truly with him. "El, what have we done? He is a prince. He is loved by everyone in Mirkwood, especially those mad soldiers who almost killed him. They will not stop until they find him and flay the ones who stole him. Not to mention his venomous ada. Will the dragon he is aligned with find us first?"

"Stop it." Elrohir had always been the short tempered of the two. "Just keep riding. We must be swift. There is no turning back now."

Legolas shivered again. An arm wrapped around him, protective, scared and concerned. He fell into the shadows and heard Ularie crow for him, but all he saw were Dekriem's red dragon eyes. He wondered how long until he died. It was not an unwelcome thought. He knew too many who would be waiting for him, and it would be a place that no dragon could follow.

The shivering intensified. He thought he heard his teeth chatter, but then the black cotton shrouded him once more.

O

Thranduil stood staring at Legolas's empty bed. The hallway outside of the royal healing ward was in chaos. Elves shouted and he heard an elleth sobbing. But he just stared at that bed, the rumpled blankets, the dimple in the pillow where his son had rested his head. With a shaking hand, Thranduil touched that spot in the pillow and a single strand of shimmering gold hair that had been left behind. Tears blurred the world and his shaking intensified.

Someone had stolen his elfling.

Someone would die for this.

If it was the cult, then Legolas was already on his way to Kagnirrok. Whoever had taken him didn't understand that the elfling was seriously ill. If not for the dragon, he would already be dead. Legolas could not be separated from Indari now. He would die.

"FIND HIM," he bellowed, tears streaming from his eyes. He didn't bother to wipe them. "FIND MY SON."

The hall trembled with his rage, bed frames rattled and screams of fear erupted nearby. He heard Kasslad shouting orders, heard the franticness in his tone and the quivering fear. This could not be happening. Not after everything. Not when he had still not made it right with Legolas for hitting him, for breaking his bones and his head, for making him afraid of him. It didn't matter that Legolas had shown forgiveness at the feast, because Thranduil had still allowed him a sip of wine, a dose of poison meant for him.

He needed to grovel to his elfling, plead forgiveness, and then never let anyone near his son again. He needed Legolas home safe and sound before shutting the kingdom up once more. He needed Legolas.

The world would burn if he did not return.

Indari's presence hauled him from his reverie. Thranduil glared at him and saw in his fiery eyes that Indari shared his dragon rage. This cruel, wicked beast would find Legolas and bring him back.

Indari said not a word. The false human turned toward the sweeping windows at the end of the hall and the evening light shimmered as he changed shape. Thranduil watched in amazement as the beast grew before him and the world, pale brown wings stretching up to the faraway rafters, his tale one powerful mass of muscle. The rumbling, bone-strumming growl of a great snake filled the hall and quieted the chaos.

Dekriem looked over one powerful shoulder and along the ridges on his back to Thranduil. Small red eyes held a promise.

"Your father kept his bargain. I will keep mine." Dekriem's voice was nothing like Kagnirrok's. It didn't grate against the ears. Instead it was as black as wet charcoal, smoother than creamed butter, and deeper than thunder. It sounded like the voice of a god.

Thranduil stared in amazement as Dekriem climbed through one of the opened windows, his slender body slithering through easily enough. But his wings sliced through the white marble as if the stone were nothing more than sand. The great wings stretched and Thranduil saw his magnificence then. Indeed, dragons were creatures to fall down on your knees before.

Dekriem disappeared into the sky. Screams echoed through the kingdom when they saw him. Thranduil stared at the ruins the beast left behind and suddenly felt alone.

O


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Torn and Far Away**

_"Nana!" Oroduil's cry made Legolas try to sit up out of Sard's jacket and supporting arm. Sard held him still in an iron embrace. "Nana, the snake is headed this way." Legolas heard Oroduil run across the study to reach her. "Have you found him? Where is Legolas?"_

_Legolas reached an arm out of Sard's jacket and felt his brother's desperate grasp. Oroduil grabbed his outstretched hand with both of his large ones and squeezed his fingers. Legolas felt lips on his palms. There were tears on his brother's chin, still warm too. A wrenching sob tore out of his brother's mouth against Legolas's hand. It was a sound Legolas had never heard from brave Oroduil before and one he never wanted to hear again._

_ Sard stepped away before Legolas could find words of comfort for his brother, breaking their hold on each other. Legolas was still too shocked by Oroduil's sob to stop Sard from tucking his arm back into his jacket. After a moment, he curled tighter against his magician._

_ The world rumbled again. Kagnirrok's grating voice was closer, as if he stalked just down the hall._

_ "We have to move." Sard used his commander voice, the one Legolas could hear from the windows in Ada's study when the magician and his warriors trained on the field below. Sard had told him that a clear and calm battle voice was just as important as any sword or bow. It could steady an elf's heart and rally them back to fight, and it could keep order when chaos fought for control. Legolas let Sard's voice ease his fears, letting it rumble against his ear that rested on his chest. Sard would get them to safety._

_ "Across the hall is an escape tunnel," Oroduil said. "Some of the warriors are waiting for us there."_

_ Legolas felt Sard break into a run. He jostled only a little, held secure by Sard's arm. Legolas wasn't sure when they left the room, but the rumbling had grown louder. Screams erupted from Nana somewhere to his left and Oroduil was shouting. Legolas buried his face against Sard, trembling, breathing in his leather smell, desperate to ignore the sulfur and smoke that threatened to suffocate him. His eyes watered from their sting._

_ "Prince Oroduil." That voice was hard as crumbling stone. It hurt Legolas's ears and he smashed his hands over them to block out the horrid sound. A snake should not speak. It should never have been given the gift to speak. "Where is your youngest brother, I wonder?"_

_ "Nana, keep going," Oroduil shouted. "I will give you time to escape."_

_ "NO!" Nana screamed a heartbroken and wretched sound that made Legolas cry. "I will not leave you!"_

_ "Queen Ayanu," Sard commanded. "Quickly."_

_ Legolas heard the dragon laugh. It sounded worse than its voice. Suddenly Sard's hands were pulling him from his jacket and setting him just in a corner to another room, the one across the hall from Ada's study that they had just left. Legolas looked up into Sard's dark blue eyes which held a world of sorrow beneath his heavy black brows. Then Sard was gone, back through that door, with a bastard sword in his hand – one that was smaller than Rugon's great sword, but still larger than a dagger._

_ Legolas moved on numb legs to the doorway and peeked around it._

_ Kagnirrok was as large as a mountain. The massive hallway crumbled to dust as the colossal snake moved. The ceiling had already disappeared and the walls were falling like piles of stacked sugar. The beast was as black as volcanic stone, its muscled wings streaked with glittering crimson. Glowing amber eyes glared down a narrow snout to Oroduil, who stood like an angel from the Valar beneath the beast with a great sword in both hands._

_ Legolas tried to take hope from the sight, because Oroduil was a knight after all and could beat Rugon senseless on the training field, but the winged snake was larger than the Halls of Mandos itself it seemed. The beast was dark like the Balrog's from the stories and more terrifying. Oroduil looked like a speck of white dust at its clawed feet._

_ Kagnirrok bent its neck, which was thicker around than the hallway in the barracks. Its maw opened to six rows of curved white and brown fangs seeded in red gums. It could swallow Ada's throne whole, it was so large._

_ That mouth went down on Oroduil, who lashed out with his great sword. Legolas heard the steel deflect off the snake's fangs. Venom oozed from their tips, splashing on the ash-coated marble with muffled drips. One of the sulfur-yellow drops landed on Oroduil's head. His scream filled the hall, followed by Nana who Sard held from running forward._

_ Legolas didn't know what he would do, just knew that he had to help his brother and stop those screams. He moved to rush into the hall, but powerful hands held him still. He snapped to look over one shoulder and saw Naspen, Rugon's second in command over the knights. There were half a dozen other knights behind the willowy elf, all pale-faced and determined. Legolas saw behind them a doorway in the wall where a mirror once hung._

_ Oroduil's screams pitched higher. Legolas turned in time to watch as his brother swung away from the dripping venom. Naspen's hand clamped over Legolas's mouth before he could add his screams to the echoes in the hall. Half of Oroduil's face had melted off, revealing white bone and an unlidded eye that rolled madly in its socket. His ivory hair had half singed off his sizzling scalp, robes burning away from his sword arm and torso._

_ Legolas smelled the foul stench of burning flesh and hair and struggled against Naspen. It happened too fast for the knight to drag him away as Kagnirrok's maw jetted down on Oroduil. Though the beast could have eaten him whole, the snake only gripped from at the waist before lifting him into the air and tossing him. Oroduil was still alive and screaming as his broken, bleeding body flipped up._

_ Kagnirrok lifted its massive neck, jaws opened once more and caught Oroduil. In one deafening crunch, Oroduil's screams cut short._

_ Nana's replaced them. She screamed and Legolas kicked. He watched as Nana broke free of Sard, who was trying to drag her to the waiting soldiers hidden in the room. Nana ran at the dragon in a fit of madness, dark golden hair whirling about her._

_ "Ayanu!" Sard shouted but didn't follow. Kagnirrok was already moving, sweeping its head to the ground to catch her._

_ Legolas stopped struggling. He watched as his naneth had both reaching arms torn from their sockets. She stood screaming as blood poured from gory holes on either side of her breasts, her gown doused in blackish-crimson. Kagnirrok knocked her over with the swipe of one claw, pinning her to the marble ground. His maw opened again and he clamped his jaws over her head._

_ Legolas struggled again. It didn't seem as though Kagnirrok made any effort as he lifted his head once more, pieces of her golden hair hanging from between his scaled lips, her head balanced between fangs._

_ Naspen dragged him backwards then just as Sard reached them. Legolas bit down on Naspen's hand and kicked him hard in the groin. Legolas's scream broke the silence in the hall and he screamed for all he was worth._

O

"Why won't he stop screaming?" Elrohir demanded his twin.

Legolas had broken into a fit during their frantic ride from Mirkwood. They were still in the kingdom after ten hours of swift riding, but were gratefully at the farthest reaches of the forest. They were almost away from patrols and whoever else was in search for the beloved prince.

Elladan held Legolas close to him, desperately trying to wake him from his nightmare but the poison he had ingested more than a month ago still hadn't allowed him to wake once, so he wasn't surprised that it wouldn't let him coax his small friend to life now.

He looked up at Elrohir who was torn between wanting to comfort Legolas and keep an eye out for patrols.

"He is making too much noise," Elrohir snapped. "We have been followed for days. Whoever is on our tail will hear him and come running. It sounds like he's being tortured."

"He is sick, Elrohir," Elladan snapped back. "Perhaps we should return him."

"To his ada who will beat him half to death again?" Elrohir demanded. "Take him back to the dragons that want him, to an army that poisoned him? Our ada will cure him. We just need to make haste to Rivendell. He will be saved there."

"No he won't."

Elladan snapped to look up at the little voice. Elrohir swung his sword out of its scabbard to face their foe.

But it was just a small elleth.

She was a pretty thing, with lily-white hair, red lips and cheeks. She had mesmerizing eyes for an elleth so young. They were a frosty green. She looked like a snow flower.

"My nana is the head healer at the palace." The girl stepped forward, dressed in a boy's breeches and tunic. A dove-gray traveling cloak draped around her tiny body. "The only reason he isn't dead yet is because of his keeper, Indari. Though he is a dragon, he has been keeping Legolas alive and guiding him out of the darkness that the poison threw him into. If you don't take him back, not even Lord Elrond can help him."

Elladan didn't like the sound of that. He looked down at Legolas and brushed sweating strands of hair from his still-bruised face. They took him to save him, not kill him.

"We should take him back," he decided.

"How long have you been following us?" Elrohir demanded the elleth.

She sent him a cool glare that turned her eyes to frozen jade.

"I saw you take him from the healing ward," she said with a voice as icy as her hair. It amazed Elladan that an elleth so little could cow his brother, who lowered his sword and snorted.

"She is right, brother," Elladan insisted. "Look at him."

Legolas let out another broken scream, back arching in his arms.

Elrohir sheathed his blade and rushed to the prince. He grabbed him out of Elladan's arms and went to his horse.

"Do you see reason now?" the elleth asked, then whistled. An old mare plodded out of the trees behind her, black as a dragon's hide but for the streak of white between its eyes.

"I have faith in the Valar that he will live." Elrohir turned his stallion back towards the edge of Mirkwood's boundaries and spurred it forward into a quick trot.

Elladan cursed and the elleth swung up onto her horse that looked like she needed a good brush and two years of sleep. The mare's forelock hung long in her face and covered her eyes.

"At least you aren't as stupid as your brother," the girl snapped.

Elladan swore again and mounted his stallion, swinging the brown beast to follow his brother.

"Not quite," he muttered. "You have to understand though, we don't take well to death. We lost our naneth when she sailed. It has been a struggle to find normalcy ever since. I promise, this is not like us."

"Do you know who he has lost?" she bristled. "He saw his naneth and brother torn apart, his kingdom overshadowed, his keeper shot in the face and a friend who died to save his life, and another attacked and nearly killed. He hasn't lost his mind."

Elladan studied her and knew she was right, just as Glorfindel and Ada had been when it came to their grief and anger. But Elrohir was sensitive. He was not ready to retreat from his grief, which he had now focused wholly on Legolas. It would be a war to make him see reason, but one that he might need to wage. Pandering to his twin's grief was no longer an option if Legolas's life hung on the line.

"Then Legolas is better than both of us," Elladan said. "Elrohir! Stop!"

A raven croaked in the canopy overhead.

O

Thranduil watched the council convene in his throne room. Kasslad stood at his right shoulder, as pensive as him. The room was already filled with soldiers, all armed and ready for war.

"We have taken a vote," said councilwoman, Lady Inamgia.

"What did you vote on that required such a crowd?" Thranduil buried his wariness beneath a veneer of authority, lounging in his throne as if Legolas were with Sard, Rugon and Pelorian at the barracks with Blaon running around trying to find him, Oroduil in his study with Ayanu going over papers but really talking about Oroduil's girlfriend. Thranduil's fears stopped when he thought about that. He had forgotten that Oroduil had had a girlfriend when Kagnirrok came. In fact, he couldn't even remember her name. He wondered if she was still in the kingdom or if she had faded, and scolded himself for not knowing.

"We are putting you to trial," Lady Inamgia announced.

The throne room was silent.

Thranduil leaned forward, hair tumbling across his shoulders and into his lap.

"Trial for what, exactly?" he asked, voice cold and steady.

"Abuse of a child," she said, not at all threatened by him as most were, "and conspiring with a creature of evil."

Thranduil went numb, but he should have known this was coming. Ever since Legolas drank poison meant for him, the council had not called for him to join any of their meetings, soldiers no longer bowed, and he was left utterly alone aside from Kasslad and Indari. He had known what the kingdom had been plotting, which was why he had done a little of it himself thanks for Indari's help. The dragon had set up a defense should the kingdom riot in his absence while he searched for Legolas. Thranduil only hoped it would work well enough to diffuse this tension long enough for him to get his elfling back.

"This is not the time," Kasslad stated, collected as a crown prince should be. Thranduil was proud. "Prince Legolas is still missing. We should be putting all of our resources into finding him. Once he is returned home safely, then we can discuss this matter again."

"Over half the army is searching for the prince," Lady Inamgia said. "The council can do nothing more than wait, and that time will be used to deal with this matter now."

Inamgia lifted a hand and Pelorian and Naspen moved forward with two dozen of their archers and knights. Thranduil stood as they approached and Kasslad stepped in front of him.

"You can't do this," Kasslad shouted, losing all form of composure. "Legolas would not want it!"

"Prince Legolas is not here to protest," Inamgia said, "and even if he were, would he be protesting under duress?"

Kasslad snarled and Thranduil met Naspen's gaze. The knight commander nodded. As Pelorian and his archers stepped forward, Naspen made a motion with his hand. His knights rushed forward and surrounded Thranduil. Together they turned on Pelorian and his archers, who froze.

"What is this?" Pelorian turned raging eyes on Naspen. "You betray the council? You betray Prince Legolas to this dragon lover?"

Naspen raised a calm, caustic brow and his smirk seemed to enrage the archer commander.

"There are those who will not betray the king," Naspen said calmly.

Pelorian swung his long bow from across his back, notching an arrow in place before Thranduil could shout a warning. His archers followed suit. However, before arrows could fly, other knights in the room had moved forward.

Sword blades erupted from each archer chest, straight through their hearts. Blood seeped into their black uniforms and arrows and bows clattered useless to the floor. Pelorian watched Thranduil, pale eyes flickering between pain and failure.

Screams filled the throne room and the council fled. More than a few soldiers followed.

Pelorian fell to his knees, shoulders sagged, and he swayed.

"It's good to see that you remember your place." Naspen placed a boot against the archer's stomach and pushed him backwards. Pelorian toppled to the floor and he did not move.

Another knight grasped Thranduil and led him through a back door with Kasslad. He let them guide him, numb and his mind spinning. Indari didn't mention that anyone would die if the council revolted against him. He did not want any of his people to die.

"We seem to be at war, my king," Naspen's monotone voice followed him. "We are at war with ourselves."

O

_Naspen dragged him backwards then just as Sard reached them. Legolas bit down on Naspen's hand and kicked him hard in the groin. Legolas's scream broke the silence in the hall and he screamed for all he was worth._

_ A darkness punched him in the chest and he quieted. Sard knelt next to him, hands reaching for his shoulders, but Legolas turned to face the new evil out in the hallway._

_ His ada marched towards Kagnirrok, an image of dark power, his aura blacker than midnight. His face was a storm of fury, eyes bright with yellow flame. Kagnirrok growled, so low and deep that Legolas's stomach hurt._

_ "What is this?" Kagnirrok asked._

_ Legolas wanted to warn his ada to run, that the beast had eaten Nana and Oroduil, but the Elvenking kept coming and Legolas couldn't find the courage to speak._

_ "An elf with the power of a dragon?"_

_ Legolas studied his ada as Sard's hands finally grasped him and picked him up. Thranduil was changing. Red eyes replaced the yellow fire and Dekriem turned away from Kagnirrok to instead face him just as Sard rushed him towards the secret tunnel._

_ "Where are you, little prince?" Dekriem asked._

_ Legolas hated the beast, hated that the dragon was there at all, but as the snake slithered closer he started to feel stronger._

_ "Where are you?"_

Legolas opened his eyes. That isn't how his nightmares usually went. Dekriem had never made an appearance. He usually would relive watching his ada fling shadows at Kagnirrok before Sard smuggled him out of the palace.

A raven quorked at him. He blinked up at a clear starlit sky and brush dew from his face with a trembling hand. When he looked to his left, he saw Ulaire. His albino raven tilted its head and blinked red eyes at him.

"He's been with you since we left Mirkwood," a familiar voice said.

"Mala?" Legolas turned and saw the winter girl sitting on his other side, one of his hands in hers. Her smile was warm, despite her cool eyes.

"I knew he would wake," came another voice.

Ulaire fluttered out of the way as an elf with long black hair knelt next to him. It was Elrohir. Elladan stood smiling behind him.

"Why are you here?" Legolas grinned and wondered if he was still dreaming.

"We came to find where Glorfindel had run off to, but found you instead," Elladan said. "We are taking you to Rivendell, much to my protest. Tell me, how did you wake? Your snow flower friend said you would die without your keeper, Indari."

Legolas frowned and looked back to Ulaire.

"It was the Valar," Elrohir announced. "I told you to have faith."

Ulaire croaked and Legolas thought back to Dekriem, who had stopped his nightmare to ask him where he was.

"Why did you take me?" Legolas demanded and tried to sit up, but his arms were still too weak and he fell back to the blanket beneath him and shivered. Mala put a hand on his shoulder, telling him to stay lying down.

"You were not safe," Elrohir said as he stoked a small fire nearby. "Were you not aware that your keeper was a dragon?"

"My family is still there." Legolas tried to sit up again but failed a second time. Mala huffed at his efforts. "I need to go back. My friends . . . they need to understand that my ada didn't mean to hurt me."

Elrohir glared at him and Elladan shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"I told you we should take him back," Elladan said.

"Let our ada decide," Elrohir snapped.

"Take me back," Legolas demanded.

"The dragon has influenced you, it seems," Elrohir said. "No elf in their right mind would want to be near one."

"My family!"

Elrohir said nothing else.

Legolas looked up at Elladan, who smiled and knelt.

"Sleep, tithen las," he said. "I promise, when you are better we will take you back to your brother and ada."

"You are my friends," Legolas reasoned, "take me back now."

"No!" Elrohir threw a stick into the flames, sending red hot ashes into the night. "I will not lose you! I will not lose anyone else!"

Legolas flinched at the shout and saw then what was happening. His friends were still locked in grief over their naneth who had sailed after being attacked and raped by orcs, and they still only cared for what they wanted. That now seemed to be him.

Though this was what he wanted before, it is not what he wanted now. He would not run away when people in his kingdom blamed his ada for hurting him. He would return and set them all straight, and the longer he waited the more danger Thranduil was in.

He caught Mala's worried gaze and nodded. When he was better, they would escape. The thought of traveling the distance from Rivendell to Mirkwood made him woozy. He had never been to Rivendell before. As he tried to imagine the maps in his ada's study, the pain in his bones grew worse and he let his eyes close again. Dekriem was waiting for him in the darkness of sleep.

"Where are you?" he asked, red eyes glowing in the shadows. "I am coming."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: The Elfling War**

_A/N: THANK YOU for the wonderful reviews. You are starting to spoil me. Please continue to let me know what your thoughts are on the story and where you would like to see it go. Hopefully questions can be answered soon. Happy reading._

Legolas floated in and out of consciousness as they made their way through the wilds to Rivendell. Sometimes he was aware of riding with one of the twins, held secure against their chests with one arm but still jostled by the almost-running stallion beneath him. When he was awake, he could tell how much ground they were making by how the stars changed. Instead of the constellations he had been taught by Blaon, he began to see new ones. It became discomforting to look at the glittering strangers; at least until Mala would take his hand or put his head in her lap when they weren't riding anymore. Then he would feel warm again, and gazing at odd stars became less frightening.

Dekriem stalked him in his dreams, and each visit would make him feel stronger, as if the dragon were pushing away the residual poison flowing in his bloodstream. But with each visit from the beast, Legolas knew he was pinpointing where he was even though he never answered the snake's repeated question, "Where are you?"

"Is he still not awake?" Elrohir. He was the one with the bitterness to his voice.

"He is sick, El!" Elladan's voice sounded closer, much close – as if he knelt directly above him. "I told you that he needs to go home! He is dying!"

No he wasn't. Legolas focused on his body. Though it still hurt to move, he could tell that he was getting stronger. Soon he would be strong enough to stay awake long enough to speak again, like he did when he first realized he had been kidnapped. Dekriem was lending him strength and healing him slowly.

"Look at his fea." Elladan sounded frantic. "He is fading."

"He has been fading for a long time." Mala. "What you're doing to him is making it worse."

Elrohir made an ugly sound at Mala, and Legolas heard something begin to boil. Likely soup. They must have stopped for the night. He focused on the cool air pressing against his face and felt dampness. It must be raining, if only a little. He smelled wet dirt, too.

"Why is he in charge?" Mala hissed at Elladan. "You know as well as I that this is wrong."

Elladan didn't answer. Legolas heard him get up and walk away through the grass.

"We are almost there," Elrohir almost sounded happy, but it was strained. "Ada will know what to do, and there won't be any dragons or mad elves to harm him again."

Mala's warm hands brushed his face, removing the traces of rain from his chilled skin. She gasped, as if noticing how cold he was, and another cloak was draped across him. He felt its added weight and warmth, but the chill was inside of him so it didn't do much. Soft lips pressed against his forehead, leaving a burning mark in its wake.

"We are almost to Rivendell," she whispered against his hair. "Hold on."

O

Thranduil stared up at the stars through the windows of his study, pressed into the white winged chair that he had often sat in with Legolas after he had another nightmare. His arms felt achingly empty now and he wondered how far the cult had taken his precious elfling from him. He closed his eyes and tried to feel where Legolas was, but there was no link between them like those who were bonded. Still, he felt that his elfling was in danger. It was an unexplainable feeling, one that wasn't rooted in any fact or knowledge, but the anxiety of knowing this anyway made it impossible for him to sleep, relax, or focus on the war brewing in his kingdom.

"The fighting in the streets has ended." Naspen's voice was monotone as always, but cool and soft as if he knew Thranduil couldn't bear anything louder.

Thranduil turned in his chair to put his back on the stars. He studied his knight commander, imposing and dark for an elf, though not as much as Sard who still hadn't returned from his investigation on the cult that had only meant to be for two weeks. It had almost been two months.

"How much of the kingdom does the council have now?" Thranduil asked. "How many of my people?

Naspen kept his hand folded behind his back, hooded eyes dark.

"Everything," he said, "but the palace and inner city. The forest and the entire kingdom surrounding us is theirs. The elves did not fight them when they heard what you did to Legolas and that you made an alliance with a dragon. They think you're mad, and are desperate to string you up, cut you open and crown Kasslad as Elvenking."

Thranduil lowered his head, gold-silver hair falling around him and into his empty hands. If his ada could see him now, he would be bitterly disappointed.

"The military is against you," Naspen added.

Thranduil glanced up at him, eyes narrowed.

"I know the black magicians, archers and warriors are," he allowed, "but the knights are mine."

Naspen raised his head a little, light filtering into his cold blue eyes. They were made of ice; there was nothing warm in them.

The study door opened then and the tension faded, but slowly. Thranduil kept his eyes on Naspen, suddenly wary.

"Ada." Kasslad had entered. He was dressed for war, all silken robes discarded for armor and light clothing that didn't hinder his movements. His great sword was strapped to his back, a long knife sheathed on each hip. His white hair was pulled back into intricate braids to keep it out of his serious face, carved and shadowed and beautiful. So like Oroduil, and even less like the one Thranduil had recognized as Kasslad's. There was no smile, no hint of amusement in those golden eyes, no relaxed air about how he stood. He was a soldier and a crown prince defending the king and the kingdom. Kasslad was gone.

If it was possible, his heart broke even more.

"The elves housed in the inner city have been passing messages with the council beyond the palace walls," Kasslad said.

Thranduil stiffened.

"The council and the elves still in our control want you to meet with Council Lady Inamgia," Kasslad said.

"To be arrested or executed?" Thranduil asked.

"To form a treaty," Kasslad said. "No one wants more elven blood shed."

Thranduil winced at how emotionless Kasslad was. A part of him was almost glad that Legolas wasn't here to see the rest of his brother disappear.

"Where does the council lady wish to meet?" he asked. Kasslad's amber gaze softened for half a moment, meeting his stare. Both knew this would not end well.

"Ada," Kasslad began to protest.

"I will have no more elven blood shed over my mistakes," Thranduil decided and stood from his chair with any remaining dignity that he held. "We will make peace."

Kasslad hesitated, but then nodded. He turned on his heel and headed back into the hallway with his knights who guarded him night and day. Naspen smiled.

O

Legolas woke up. His sight was blurred and it hurt to hold up his head, but he was strong enough to deal with the pain now. He smelled the cool exoskeleton of bugs crawling along the branches they passed, the stallion's sweat beneath him, and knew he had gained more power from Dekriem. But he didn't resent it, or even fear it . . . even if he felt like he was half dragon now. It was the strength he needed to deal with the poison still inside of him, and it was past time to put the twins in their places and return home. He could feel that he was needed.

He leaned against the powerful chest behind him and tried to decide which twin he was being held captive by. The strong arm wrapped like a snake around his stomach, holding him in place. He lifted one hand, fighting for each inch. Pain rattled through his muscles and they began to shake.

"Tithen las?" It was Elrohir.

The stallion stopped running with a breathy snort and Legolas stared down the wooded path between the horse's brown ears that twisted to and fro.

Elrohir tilted Legolas back to look into his face. Legolas obeyed like a flopping fish, and glared once the twin's blue eyes found his. Elrohir's brow was cinched with worry.

"We are here." Elrohir ran a trembling hand down the side of Legolas's sweating face. He pointed to their left. Legolas fought to move his head to see what the twin wanted him to look at.

A city carved from honey-colored stone stood nestled between forested cliffs and white rumbling waterfalls. It was small. It was Rivendell.

O

It still took an hour before they reached the gates and courtyard to the elven realm. Legolas managed to stay conscious for the trip, listened to Elladan and Elrohir bicker – though not as lighthearted as they did when he first met them in Mirkwood, and answered as many of Mala's questions as he could. His friend rode directly behind him and Elrohir, her gentle voice easily heard beneath the sharp words passed between the twins. Elladan seemed concerned that Legolas hadn't eaten anything in too long, while Elrohir was verging on frantic just to get him to Lord Elrond. Mala told him all she had learned about Rivendell from the Elladan during their month-long trip.

A month. It had been a month since they kidnapped him. He hoped Sard would find him soon, before Dekriem did.

The dragon was close. He could feel the snake's burning presence in the back of his mind, lending him strength, giving him power. He shivered at the thought of becoming more like the beast. Elrohir felt the tremor and kissed the top of his head. Legolas wanted to kick him.

The horses rushed into the courtyard, heaving heavy sighs as if they knew they had finally made it home and looked forward to resting in their stalls. Before Legolas had a chance to take in Rivendell up close, Elrohir slid from the stallion and dragged him along, swinging him into his arms and carrying him like an infant. Legolas glared at him, but the pain was too great to do much else.

"Where is our ada?" Elrohir shouted and broke into a run.

Legolas heard Elladan and Mala follow, but their footfalls soon fell behind. He watched as shafts of light passed overhead through archways and windows, the setting sun a brilliant orange.

"Ada!" Elrohir called.

"Did you find Glorfin-." Elrond's voice cut short. Legolas wanted to lift his head and see the Rivendell lord, to beg him to let him go home, but the pain was too much, weakening his muscles to jelly.

So he watched Elrohir's face instead. He was not much like Kasslad or Oroduil, but more like Elrond with his long, straight black hair that hung loose around his pale, oval face. He had high cheekbones that cast blue shadows across his cheeks, and a strong, bold nose that made him seem powerful and perhaps handsome to some. His lips were pressed into a white crease, brows curved into worried lines across his forehead. Gray eyes were almost buried beneath the curl of his black lashes, the light in them retreated and filled with fear.

Elrohir's stern, terrified face became farther away as he was lowered onto a bed. It was soft, and his body relaxed as if it recognized not having been comfortable since being kidnapped, even if he was unconscious for most of it. He let his eyes fall closed in response. Warm hands cupped his face and thumbs ran under his eyes, urging him awake. He responded, wishing for nothing else but to see his ada, Kasslad or Sard.

Elrond gazed down at him, his face much softer than his son's and his hair longer and braided back.

"Tithen las," he whispered. "Look at you."

Legolas couldn't, so he let his eyes close again. A hand took his and squeezed. He thought it might be Elrohir. The rest faded back to the dark swirl of slumber.

O

Elladan carried Mala the rest of their hurried way to the healing wing. He burst into the doors, rushing to one of the bedrooms usually reserved for the lord's family or special guests. One of the doors was open and he plowed inside. Lord Elrond was quickly mixing some kind of concoction, while Elrohir stroked sweaty strands of hair from Legolas's pale brow. Mala tensed in his arms when she saw him. Elladan took a calming breath at the sight. Ada could fix this.

He crossed to the large bed in four strides, setting Mala on her feet. The beautiful little elleth climbed onto the bed and rested a hand on one of Legolas's knees. Elrohir didn't even look up, focused entirely on the small prince who seemed to have one foot in the grave and one out. Elladan just didn't know which way Legolas was going.

"Elladan," Ada called.

He turned and walked on stiff legs to Elrond, who still mixed some herbs in a bowl. His ada smiled weakly at him, but shook his head.

"You left to find a missing Glorfindel," Ada muttered, reaching for a jar with dried leaves. Elladan's head was still spinning too much from their panicked, rushed journey to notice what kind they were. "Why did you return with the beloved prince of Mirkwood instead?"

"Glorfindel was attacked by a dragon," Elladan whispered, throat catching on whatever else he had wanted to say.

Elrond froze and his gaze snapped up to find his.

"Kagnirrok? Is Glorfindel. . . ?"

Elladan could only shake his head, which eased Elrond's worry.

"This was a dragon that Thranduil made a deal with, some lower woodland snake named Dekriem," he said. "Glorfindel is in a coma. We could not move him."

"And how did Legolas get poisoned?"

It amazed Elladan that his ada didn't address what he had just said. Elrond's face remained soft and worried, but not overly so, not how Elladan knew his face looked when he discovered what happened or even how his heart fluttered now in horror at the old news.

"The dragon is controlling Thranduil," Elladan said. "Thranduil was fighting against him and to teach the king a lesson, the beast forced him to beat Legolas near to death."

"That explains the bruises." Elrond went back to his jar and untied the string keeping the thick, oiled cloth covering the top. A sharp odor escaped the container and made Elladan turn away.

"The kingdom discovered this and tried to kill him," he continued. "Legolas intercepted the poison somehow."

"And how did he come to be in Rivendell? Something tells me that the over-protective, ill-tempered King Thranduil didn't send you off in the night with his dying elfling to keep him from elves that love him?" Elrond shook leaves out of the jar and into his bowl. Long fingers reached in and began to crumble them with dry snaps.

"We couldn't leave him there, not with a dragon and a half-mad father," Elladan argued. Heat flared up his cheeks and he pushed away from the table. "He is just an elfling! Hasn't he been through enough? We wanted to save him, be there for him since we have never been able to before!"

"Be careful of that anger, ion nin," Elrond said. "Are you sure it was to help Legolas and not yourselves?"

"You know nothing," Elrohir growled from the bed. "You barely wept for our naneth when she sailed. You never followed, you never faded, you never acted like you cared! Arwen fled to Lothlorien, and Elladan and I-" he couldn't finish, shutting his mouth with a pulse of muscle along his jaw.

Elladan swallowed hard and looked at Elrond, who still kept his emotions buried beneath his raised brows and soft eyes. He turned back to his brother and saw Mala's big, frosty green eyes watching the exchange with horror. Legolas was still asleep, his fea fading even as they argued.

"Not here," Elladan breathed to Elrohir. "We must save Legolas before we finally say these words to each other."

Elrohir and Elrond stared at each other for a moment longer before Elrohir snarled and jolted to his feet, marching to the door and out of sight. Elrond turned back to his bowl of herbs.

"Can you save him?" Elladan asked, but didn't just mean Legolas.

Elrond hesitated.

"Time can only say," Elrond whispered. Elladan saw the sharp glint of a tear fall from his cheek, sparking in the dying sun. It splashed into his bowl of mixes, sending the dust of a hopeful cure into the air.

O

Thranduil met with Lady Inamgia in the throne room. He wore his mithril crown, the one he wore to war, the one he had worn since Kagnirrok visited. He sat in his throne and watched as the sun set beyond the windows to the west. The glass shivered in the bleeding orange and he wondered if his youngest was watching it too, and prayed to the Valar that the light didn't touch a broken, fading body but one that was on its way back home. Kasslad stood to his right, still donned in his armor and looking like Oroduil's ghost. Naspen stood off to his left with his loyal knights behind him and scattered throughout the room.

Lady Inamgia marched towards Thranduil with two others from the council. The first was Lord Sallar, an ancient elf close to six thousand years old. He had gray-blond hair that was spun into a single coil down his narrow, fragile back. A piercing and pinched face shone from beneath the tightly pulled-back hairline. Gray robes shimmered in the orange light of the setting sun, making him look faded amid the fiery light.

The other council member was Lady Bearil, an elleth almost more beautiful than Lady Inamgia. Instead of hair the color of flowing honey, Bearil had rich blonde hair done in dozens of intricate braids. She was young, a follower, with hardly any time to form a mind of her own. It was a shame, really. She could have been something had she the fire in her to be independent. Instead, her small shoulders rolled forward, head down and blue eyes hidden beneath fluttering lids. Her pretty figure was almost drowned in pale yellow robes that made her look washed-out. Thranduil almost pitied her.

That is, until he met Lady Inamgia's dark, smoldering green eyes. The elleth was mad to think she had any chance to cow him into meeting her demands. She started this war, which was apparent by the soldiers who followed in her wake. There were archers and magicians. Thranduil didn't know who replaced Pelorian, and didn't have time to search for his second-in-command, whoever that had been. He scolded himself for not knowing. Legolas would have.

It felt like a spear went through his heart, then. Legolas had been very close with Pelorian. The archer's death would be hard for his young shoulders to carry, if not too much. He had been fading when he was kidnapped. . . .

"It is wise of you to meet with me to end this unneeded elven bloodshed," Inamgia said, her sharp voice cutting the silence.

Kasslad bristled, his steel armor clinking.

"A king will do anything to save his people, even meet with the witch who lied to them," Thranduil snarled, unable to hold back his temper. Thinking of Legolas's heartache had brought him to the brink of another dragon rage. Inamgia had best tread carefully.

Inamgia stopped. The crowd surrounding her followed suit. She smiled sickly-sweet at him, big red lips dark against her pale face.

"That was the wrong thing to say," she told him.

The cool tip of a blade pushed against his throat. He held still.

"Of course," she said, "I didn't think negotiations today would end well. You need more time to realize that you may still wear the crown, but your people are no longer yours."

"Traitors!" Kasslad's furious, broken shout made Thranduil boil.

"What would you have me do, my queen?" Naspen asked, his monotone voice next to Thranduil's ear.

"How much did you promise you?" Thranduil demanded the knight. "I thought you wouldn't betray your king."

Naspen didn't respond.

"Throw him into the dungeons," Inamgia said. "Kasslad will be king."

"I will not!" Kasslad screamed.

Thranduil risked the blade against his throat to look at his son. Kasslad was being restrained by four knights, all of his weapons having been taken from him. His son was furious, but tears trailed down his cheeks.

Inamgia waved a hand and rough hands took Thranduil by his arms. The blade was removed and a quick hand took his crown.

O


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: A Taste of Death**

Birds were singing. It felt like spring. Legolas opened his eyes, eager for it all to have been a dream and that he would dress, run to the barracks and find Rugon, Pelorian and Sard waiting for him. He would even hug Blaon once he saw him.

Instead of his room's vaulted ceiling and billowing green and white curtains on the south-facing wall, he saw a curved ceiling carved from honey stone. Instead of the gentle gold and green light of Mirkwood, he blinked against the harsh white glare of Rivendell. It smelled of herbs and wet stone. It smelled strange and foreign, and drove a spike through his heart. He had wanted to be home.

"Good afternoon, Prince Legolas," came a soft, soothing voice.

Elrond.

Legolas looked to his right and saw the Rivendell lord sitting forward in a wooden chair that had a tall, sweeping back. Elrond's black hair was dry and a bit unkempt, his deep blue robes rumpled.

"How long have you been awake?" Legolas didn't like how weak his voice sounded. He cleared it and swallowed.

Elrond smiled, which only made the bags under his blue eyes darker, and twined his fingers beneath his chin.

"Most of my patients want to know how long they have been asleep, not how long I have been awake," he said.

Legolas didn't smile with him.

"You have been here for two weeks, young one," Elrond said. "I was not sure if you would wake again."

Legolas nodded. At least he had not been asleep for another month. Two months and two weeks was more than enough time away from home, and none of it needed or wanted.

"Will you let me go now?" Legolas asked.

Elrond's brows rose and his eyes grew sadder, if that were possible. He had the gentlest face Legolas had ever seen. Elrond reached out and wiped a hand down the side of Legolas's cheek.

"That would depend," Elrond whispered. "I need you to tell me everything that has happened."

"I can tell you on the way back," Legolas said. "You can come and make Glorfindel better, too."

Elrond closed his eyes at the name of his friend.

"That may be," Elrond allowed, "but you come first now. If my sons are correct, it sounds as if Rivendell should be your home. If my sons are correct, you will not be let go until you are of age."

Legolas leaned away from him.

"I do not mean this to be cruel," Elrond said. "I speak only of your safety. No elfling should think that what you may or may not have been through is normal. I am your friend, Legolas, just as I am your father's friend."

"Then don't do this to him," Legolas begged.

"You must tell me why I shouldn't."

O

"I've searched the whole place out," Mala whispered as she led him quietly around another corner. She held his hand, moving slowly since he was still weak though on the mend.

It had been close to another month since they had been away from home, and since they arrived in Rivendell. Though he had told Elrond what he wanted to know over the weeks he stayed at the elven realm, the lord had made no comment or judgment on any of it. Legolas was not sure if he was still being held captive, or if he was being watched as he continued to recover from the poison.

Legolas had been allowed out of bed a few days ago, and Mala showed him Rivendell with caution. Neither of them felt safe. Today she led him near the kitchens, following their noses. The aroma of fresh bread and mixed frosting led them down another crowded hallway. Mala had told him that the kitchens were a marvelous place to be, especially since the cooks were nothing like the ones back home in Mirkwood or even Fesove at the barracks. These cooks gave sweets away like they were nothing.

They stayed close to the walls, keeping out of everyone's way. Most elves looked at them and smiled like the human merchants had back home, waving and cooing – especially at him. The elves treated him like some kind of broken thing, and he hated it.

Though he was still pale, he was able to walk now. Though he was still shaky, he no longer passed out. Mala had braided his hair away from his face for their adventure today, and he almost looked like his normal self. Aside, of course, the tremors and being as white as bone.

Mala kept a close eye on him, peering back at him often over a shoulder. Her wintry green eyes were soft like fresh snow, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.

Legolas ignored her worry. He was fine. Elrond had identified the poison, said he could be saved since – by some miracle – he hadn't died yet. Most that ingest dregs of the tangleroot weed die within seconds, even though there is a cure. Elrond was convinced that Indari was feeding him the cure in secret. Legolas wasn't so sure.

"I think it is time to go home." Legolas pulled back on Mala's hand. She stopped to look at him, white brows tight and eyes narrowed.

"You are still getting better." She came closer with a wary glance at the watching elves that passed.

"Elrond is no longer giving me the cure, I don't need it," Legolas argued. They were so close now this breath moved her cotton-white hair away from her forehead. "I feel that we must go home. Something is wrong."

Mala studied him.

"Why do the elflings look so serious?"

Both jumped. Erestor, Lord Elrond's advisor, stood next to them. Mala pressed her shoulder against Legolas's, their hands tightening around each others.

"We were going to the kitchens," Legolas said. Mala stomped on his foot.

Erestor's concerned frown eased and he winked.

"Best hurry off then, before Elladan and Elrohir take them all," he said.

It was Legolas's turn to frown.

"Elladan and Elrohir are either looking for me or are barricaded in my room waiting for me to get back," he said. It was the truth, too. The twins had shadowed and babied him since he arrived, both alarmed by his nightmares. Since they learned he had them, they camped on the floor of his room to reach him all the faster. Neither had been their jovial selves, the ones that Legolas remembered – which, according to Elrond, was not as jovial as they truly were. When Legolas met them, they were still in their grief, though it hadn't consumed them yet.

The lines on Erestor's face deepened again. He readjusted his hold on some thick tomes, gave a short nod and retreated down the hallway. Legolas felt guilty. Perhaps he hadn't said anything.

"Okay," Mala said and pulled him back towards the kitchens. "We will go. First, we need to find out how we can get out of here without so many elves seeing us."

O

It was the first dinner Legolas attended that night. He dressed in some of Elladan and Elrohir's old elfling clothes, which were too big on him since he had lost weight – according to Elrond. Mala wore some of Arwen's. They walked hand-in-hand towards the dining hall, led by the twins amid a sea of hungry elves. Legolas walked carefully in the dark blue robes, not wishing to trip. Mala picked up the hem of her white dress, looking much more graceful than he could hope to be. She seemed like a snowflake floating down the hall.

The twins led them through double doors into an elegant, intricate wing. Tables adorned the open space, made from pale wood and draped with silk runners. The twins led Legolas and Mala to a table at the head of the hall, seating them on one side of a large, cushioned chair.

Elrond sat there. Legolas watched as he took his place and waved for food to be served.

Legolas fidgeted as they waited. He tried not to kick his feet, tried to keep his hands folded nicely in his lap the way Nana taught him, and tried not to keep his eyes from wandering to the other tables to watch the dark-haired elves.

"It is good to see you getting better, tithen las," Elrond said over the rim of a golden goblet, eyes amused. Legolas noticed that the twins were silent and still on the lord's other side, neither speaking. He glanced at Mala and saw her playing with her fork.

"I gather you are anxious to get home," Elrond said.

Those words made Legolas sit still. Elrond's hand smoothed Legolas's hair and cupped the back of his head.

"You need not plan an escape," Elrond sounded amused.

Mala stopped playing with her fork.

"A Rivendell escort will see you home," Elrond laughed, eyes gentle but sad. "I will come as well. Perhaps I can help Glorfindel. . . Perhaps I can help your ada. The Valar know how long it has been since Rivendell has been needed to help Mirkwood and hasn't. It is time to rid our blind eye and see again. Your troubles will soon be ours, for you are our kin."

Legolas blinked up at the lord in astonishment. After a moment of shock, he turned a grin of hope on Mala. They were going home.

O

The dungeons were cold and dank. Thranduil leaned his head on the bars and tried to gaze up the deep cavern to the stars, but could see nothing but more stone. He shivered and wondered when he had become so frozen, as if being warm had become a distant dream. He thought of his warm elfling, before Legolas began to fade, of how Ayanu had warmed his bed and the soft light of sun against his skin as he watched Oroduil and Kasslad spar on the field as he, Ayanu and Legolas had sat on the grass with their lunch.

Another life. A foreign life. All of it stolen from him by both dragon claws and teeth, greedy human hands, and hurt and betrayed elven hearts.

He had to face that he would never get any of it back, except for Kasslad and Legolas, except for his throne. It had been his father's, and it would not be ripped from him. The world shook as a new dragon rage found him, but faded before it could free him from his cell. He had not the heart to force his kingdom to bow to him. His heart fluttered, weak and sad.

"Good evening, Thranduil." Inamgia.

Thranduil eased away from the icy bars and leaned back against the wall. The council lady had come to see him every day during his month and a half long incarceration. She didn't say much, just told him how the people are being prepared to make Kasslad king and execute Thranduil. Her visits were terrible and tedious. They kept him cold.

The council lady stepped into view, dressed in sweeping golden robes. Dark green eyes found his and her red mouth curled into a grin.

"I have good news for you today," she said.

Thranduil dreaded it and sought his dragon rage. He wished for Dekriem now more than ever, just to see the snake rip out this elleth's black heart.

"I am offering you freedom," she said.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe her for a second.

"If you make me your advisor, you will be released," she said. "But you must always do as I say."

Thranduil laughed. It was almost as cold as he felt.

"You have set the kingdom up to hate me," Thranduil argued. "They will never allow you to set me free and reclaim my rightful seat as king. They would see me dead first."

"That can be easily fixed." Inamgia raised a caustic brow at his wicked smirk. "People would more easily believe that Kasslad hurt Legolas."

Thranduil rushed at the bars, wrapping powerful fingers around the iron, wishing to harm her, stop her.

"Kasslad has changed so much since Kagnirrok visited," she continued. "He has lost his spirit, his joy. When once he could always be found with the beloved, beautiful elfling, he no longer can. Kasslad has become a ghost of his former self. Elves would understand if he blamed Legolas for the loss of his naneth and elder brother. For it was the elfling's fault, was it not?"

"They would not believe you," Thranduil growled. "Kasslad has a broken heart, they understand that. He would harm no one!"

"As for this pesky problem with you and the dragon, Dekriem," she went on like he said nothing, "it was Oropher who made the deal, not you. With my help, you would come out the victim on each count. The elves would accept your dragon curse, begrudgingly of course, but would understand that you did not choose this. Even so, it has become handy just in case Kagnirrok comes back."

"This would never work." Thranduil hit the bars, but they did not break like he had desperately envisioned.

"Of course, the kingdom will be told that you initially took the blame to protect your father's honor and keep Kasslad from persecution."

Thranduil said nothing more. She was not listening to him.

"What say you?" She smiled.

"Let me speak to Kasslad," he said.

O

Kasslad came not thirty minutes later. Thranduil pressed against the bars to be closer to his son. They had not treated him well. Thranduil could see how his armor had been removed so roughly that his green and black clothes beneath had been torn. He must not have been allowed to change, even these long weeks. His white hair was a mess and his eyes had dark smears beneath them. His lower lip trembled as he broke free of his escort, one of whom was Naspen, and hurled himself at the bars.

"Ada," Kasslad shouted.

Thranduil reached his fingers through the small spaces between the iron. Kasslad clutched at them the best he could, tears in his dim golden eyes.

"Ada, forgive me," he said. "It was my idea. I refused to be king. She told me I had to come up with a solution to free you, if that were to be the case."

"Take the throne, ion nin," Thranduil whispered, longing to wipe the tears that spilled from Kasslad's eyes, clinging to his long ivory lashes. "Do not throw your life away. You are not yet five-hundred. You are too young, while I have lived many a millennia."

Kasslad shook his head and a sob shook free, knocking his knees to the stone. Thranduil fell with him, desperate to keep what little hold he had on his son's fingers, lending his strength to him that he could.

"You will be a great king," Thranduil encouraged. "You will find a way to break the council's hold on this kingdom and restore it to what it was before."

"What of Legolas?" Kasslad raised his swimming eyes, as lost and broken as he had been after Kagnirrok ruined their world. "I want to be out there searching for him. I should be out there! He is my brother. He is six years old. He needs me to find him."

Thranduil bowed his head, letting white-gold hair fall around his face to hide his agony. It had been two months since the elfling was stolen. He could be anywhere and as far as Rohan now, for all he knew.

"Take her offer, ada," Kasslad begged. "I have a way to escape. I will go after Legolas. Please, it will work."

"How?" Thranduil asked, looking at him again.

"Trust me."

O

Legolas and Mala walked with Elladan back to their rooms, excited and, for once, at peace. Rivendell did not seem as frightening as it had when they arrived, especially since they were no longer prisoners. At least, they didn't feel like captives now.

Elladan smiled softly as both elflings told him of home. Legolas tried to get him to understand how wonderful Sard was, but the twin merely smiled, hands behind his back, gray eyes sad and lost beneath his black lashes.

Legolas looked back towards the dining hall they had left. Elrohir had been drinking too much, and had gotten angry and started yelling. Erestor and Elrond had dismissed most of the elves as they tried to calm him. From the way the other elves left without argument or staring, Legolas knew it happened often when the twins were home.

Elladan had watched his brother with sadness, his fea growing dimmer and dimmer. Legolas remembered the smile he used to always wear, the laughter that had once come easily, even when he was still grieving. In fact, he reminded Legolas of Kasslad.

Perhaps . . . perhaps if he got Elladan to be happy again, he would know how to bring Kasslad's joy back.

"Do you know how to play stones?" Legolas asked him.

Elladan's eyes lit for a moment.

"I do," he asked. "But it is too late to play them."

"It's never too late," Mala said and ran to her room. Legolas smiled after her, having known she had brought them. She loved to play stones.

Elladan signed and shrugged one shoulder, as if too distracted by a drunk Elrohir to care. Legolas grabbed the edge of his green tunic and hauled the twin to his room. Elladan sat on the floor where he and Elrohir camped out to be close to Legolas, to wake him from his nightmares. Legolas threw pillows off the bed and joined him just as Mala ran in with her hands full of marbles.

Mala dumped them on the blankets and sat cross-legged next to Legolas, grinning like a blinding winter morning at Elladan. The twin's smile brightened for a moment and he scooped his share of marbles, rolling them toward him.

They played for hours, until first Mala fell asleep and then Legolas. He had merely rested his head in Elladan's lap for a brief minute, when the next he knew he was blinking his eyes open, the taste of sleep on his tongue. He widened his eyes against the darkness of his room. It was early in the morning, too early to be awake.

So he tried to find out why he had woken. Elladan was lying back against a mountain of pillows, head fallen back in sleep, so he hadn't woken him from any nightmares. Mala was curled like up like a fox beneath some blankets, face tucked away beneath her mane of white hair. Legolas stretched and sat up from Elladan's side, and from beneath his protective arm.

He sniffed. There was smoke in the air. A lot of it.

Too much of it.

That was what woke him.

He stood and a hand went over his mouth. Panic grasped him by the lungs and he tried to scream. It was muffled beneath the strong fingers. He turned and saw that Elladan had risen, gray eyes sharp and worried in the dim light filtering through the curtains. It was a red and orange light.

Elladan turned toward the windows, Legolas not far behind. The twin pulled back the curtains and Legolas gasped. All of Rivendell was alight with flame.


End file.
